A Draught In Time
by dutchtulips
Summary: EPILOGUE ADDED! RonHermione, sixth year. When Ron accidentally drinks a wrongly brewed potion, he wakes up to find that he's travelled ten years through time, and that his longtime crush Hermione is now his wife...
1. Chapter 1

**SD - **Harry Potter and company are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Warner Brothers, and no copyright infringement is intended therein. Ooh, I sound all sophisticated, don't I? ;-) 

**AN - **I'M BAAAACK! ;-) Yes, my dears, you heard right! dutchtulips has awaken from her long, LONG hibernation to bring you a new R/Hr fanfic from her R/Hr obsessed brain! ;-) I heard that a story like this existed somewhere in the annals of the HP fanfiction world, but I just loved the idea of it so much I had to try it myself. So if you're the one who _does_ have a story like this, my profound apologies for using your idea. But you know what they say about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery... ;-) 

--- 

**A Draught In Time**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

"Listen, when you love somebody, you're always in trouble. There's only two things you can do about it: either stop loving 'em, or love 'em a whole lot more." 

--Harry Morgan, _MASH_

--- 

Hermione Granger's fingers were gripping her Potions book so tightly that sixteen-year-old Ron Weasley was quite worried that they would snap right off. 

"Why on Earth would the key ingredient be fluxweed!" She exclaimed, her frustration causing a wild and frenzied look come over her face. 

Slamming his notes down in front of him, Ron shot back from across the table, "Because I was actually _listening_ in class for once, Hermione! I know that probably sounds impossible for you to believe, but I'm not stupid, you know!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes as she smartly turned a page in her book, nearly tearing it from the leather bindings. "Could've fooled me," she grumbled. 

From across the Gryffindor common room, an annoyed sigh erupted from a jet-haired young boy. "Oh, clam up already, you two. You're driving me mad." 

Upon hearing him, Ron and Hermione looked over at him and then back at each other, exchanging apologetic looks. "Sorry, mate," the redhead replied sincerely. 

"Me too," Hermione said softly, her rigid posture in her chair relaxing slightly. "Ron and I were just trying to discuss the Potions assignment, that's all." 

Sixteen-year-old Harry Potter, who was slumped over in the plush red sofa in front of the fire, responded with an incoherent grunt. "Shouting yourself hoarse about it is more like it." 

Ron pushed his Potions notes aside and got up from his chair, walking over to join Harry, who was doodling on the corner of his Transfiguration essay. "We really are sorry, Harry. Hermione and I know much it irritates you when we argue." 

The jet-haired boy sat up slightly. "Yeah, well, why can't you just stop doing it, then?" 

Ron looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who had a sympathetic look on her face, and then back to his best friend. "Yeah, we'll try to do that. Won't we, Hermione?" 

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course. Ron and I will stop fighting, okay, Harry?" 

Harry looked back and forth between them. "All right," he finally said. 

A silence fell between them then, but as Ron was getting up from the sofa to rejoin his homework, Hermione suddenly said, "Harry, won't you talk about... it... with us?" 

Ron winced at her words, expecting the worst was about to burst forth from Harry. Looking over at Hermione, he said, almost letting the exasperation leak through in his voice, "Hermione, if he doesn't feel like mentioning it, don't make him, all right?" 

Before she could fire back a retort, Harry abruptly stood up from the sofa. "No, Ron, it's okay," he replied, taking the redhead quite aback by Harry's calm response to the reference of what had happened last Spring, what had happened to Sirius. "It's just, I don't know what it is that you want me to say. You know what happened. You know how I feel. What else could there be to talk about?" A bit of vexation was seeping into Harry's voice, however. 

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, I guess," she finally answered. 

"I'll be all right," Harry said quite simply, and as he dropped back down to the sofa and picked up his Transfiguration homework again, he seemed to have completely closed the door on the matter. 

Without a word in response, Ron started his way back over to the table again, where his Potions homework was still sitting across from Hermione's massive book, from which she was taking lengthy notes. 

Dropping back down to his chair again, Ron made an attempt to start studying his own notes again, but as looked up at Hermione to ask her a question about them, he found himself staring at her instead. True, these past few months had been extremely rough, with Sirius's death and the grievous change in their best friend, and Ron was very surprised to realize that, at the beginning of sixth year, after the repercussions of all those things began to take their toll, his strong feelings for Hermione had not changed. 

_It was just this time last year when I began to really start to care for her, _Ron thought, absentmindedly tapping his quill against his homework, splattering droplets of ink across the parchment. _We began to grow even closer than I thought we could be, what with all of the time we spent together as prefects, and in the D.A._ _And then there was the perfume... I just wanted to give her a Christmas gift to show her how much I really cared about her, really thought of her..._

_And then Sirius had to up and die, leaving all of us just feeling so cold inside, so sad and hurtful... I thought I would never have any sort of good feelings for a long time... But Hermione... I still loved her... It was still there, when I thought all hope was gone..._

A voice suddenly cut into the redhead's thoughts, leaving a heavy fog over his brain. "Er, Ron?" 

He blinked hard, as if to bring himself back to reality. His eyes focusing back on Hermione, Ron said, tapping his quill a bit harder in his sudden nervousness, "Yes, Hermione?" 

She seemed to be looking at him with such a fervency in her eyes, as if she had been hearing the thoughts that had been echoing inside of his head only moments before. _Did she notice me staring at her? _He thought now, with a sort of delirium sinking into his veins. _What is she going to say to me?_

"Ron? You're getting ink all over your Potions notes!" 

He looked down, and realized she was right. Large black dollops were all over his parchment; in many places completely smudging over the ingredients for the next day's potion that Ron had so carefully copied down. "Oh, bloody wonderful!" He exclaimed, irritation finding its way back into his voice as he unsuccessfully tried to repair the damage. "Now I'm going to have to write this all over again!" 

Hermione leaned across the table to help Ron blot up the splatters of ink, using a spare scrap of parchment to do the job. "Well, why were you rapping your quill all over your papers for? You shouldn't've been daydreaming or else this wouldn't have happened!" 

Ron's eyes flashed threateningly in her direction for a moment, his desire to throw back an insult to her impatient words overwhelming, but instead he allowed the remark to pass. _Ah, if only you had known what I had been daydreaming **of**, Hermione..._

"Well?" She said suddenly, her voice sharp, as if expecting him to say something nasty in return. 

"You're right, Hermione," he said, looking back down at his papers. "I should've been keeping my mind on my work, and not drifting off." 

Their eyes locked for a moment, Hermione's cinnamon brown irises looking quite surprised but pleasantly so all the same, glad to hear they had agreed on something. In a soft, compromising tone, she said, "Well, it's okay... I'll let you borrow mine to copy, if you want." 

"Really?" The redhead looked relieved. "Thanks, Hermione!" 

She reached over to take her Potions notes out of her rucksack and, as she handed them over to Ron, Hermione shot a glance towards Harry, curiosity filling her eyes. 

But curiosity momentarily turned to gladness as she noticed that Harry was already looking on, a knowing smile faintly etched across his face. 

--- 

"Now remember this!" Professor Snape's voice barked, echoing through the dungeons, "Even though I don't expect you to, as foolish and dimwitted as most of you undoubtedly are. The belladonna antidote - the potion that we have been discussing in class for the past two days - is one of the most important things to appear on your final exam. You are to prepare this potion as homework and bring in a flagon of it to be tested by next Thursday. Absolutely _no _excuses! This accounts for one third of your final grade, so if you do not complete this assignment successfully, _you will fail this course._" His gaze flashed dangerously in Neville's direction, whose eyes grew wide and fearful upon hearing this. 

Professor Snape continued, a look of intense displeasure on his face. "I hope for all of your sakes that you have been taking careful notes from my past two days' of lectures on this potion, or else you have absolutely no hope whatsoever of correctly brewing the antidote, nor receiving a decent grade for your work. Is this understood?" 

"Yes, Professor," the students replied, and in a halfhearted tone, mostly from the Gryffindors. 

At that moment the bell rang, prompting a number of inward sighs of relief all around. "Very well. You are dismissed from my classroom," Snape spat, his black robes billowing as he turned on his heel and retreated to his desk and the stack of paperwork there, completely ignoring the students and their chatter. 

Among them were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were packing up their things in their rucksacks and were preparing to leaving the dungeons as fast as they could. Hermione shoved her books in her bag and slung it on, joining Harry and Ron, who were already starting out of the room. "I guess we'd better get started on that tonight, don't you think? Since the asphodel has to brew for two hours and the knotgrass, the key ingredient, has to go in right after that -" 

Ron interrupted quite suddenly, as the trio were climbing the dungeon steps for the main floor corridor. "No, that's wrong, Hermione! Professor Snape said the key ingredient was fluxweed! He mentioned it about twenty times!" 

The bushy-haired girl sighed in frustration. "We went over this last night, Ron! You heard him wrong, he didn't say -" She cut herself off, as she glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. "We'll talk about it later, okay?" 

"Fine," Ron said shortly, feeling disappointed. _Why can't we ever get along? _He thought, almost angry with himself. He wanted to say something more, to pacify Hermione's indignation with him, but from the look on her face he decided to just let it lie. 

He turned to Harry instead, saying, "Want a game of chess when we get back to the common room, mate?" 

But before Harry could answer, however, Ron spied Hermione giving him a dirty look, and inwardly he sighed. _Oh, Hermione, would you stop doing things that make me want to hate you? I care for you, I don't want to hate you!_

As he glanced back towards his friend, the redhead noticed Harry giving him a pensive look. 

"What?" Ron inquired. 

"Hermione, would you excuse Ron and me for a moment?" Harry said quickly to her, and then pulled the redhead over to the other side of the hallway. 

"What are you doing, Harry?" He exclaimed, wanting to know what was up with his best friend. 

"Don't play chess with me this afternoon," the jet-haired boy said. "Spend time with her. She obviously wants to study. You'd be making her really happy if you started to work on that antidote for Snape's class." 

Ron peered at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Just what are you getting at, mate?" 

Harry rolled his eyes amusedly. "Don't be thick! You know what I'm talking about." He lowered his voice then, his tone becoming slightly somber. "Even after what... happened, you know..." Harry pause, and then tried again. "Well, it's good to see that happiness isn't impossible. That your feelings for Hermione haven't gotten washed away after all this mess." 

Ron could feel his ears turning pink. "Oh, well, erm..." 

He gave the redhead a nudge. "Go ahead," Harry told him. "I'll see you in the common room later on." 

Ron considered this for a moment, and then grinned. "Thanks, Harry. You're a great mate." 

"Of course. It's in my job description." 

"Ron! Harry!" Hermione's voice suddenly rang out from across the hallway. "Are you coming or not?" 

"Yeah! Be right there!" Harry called to her, and then turned back to Ron. "Go on, Valentino!" 

Ron started to go, but then regarded the jet-haired boy again. "But... what about you?" 

"I told you yesterday, I'll be all right," Harry said stonily, giving the redhead a smile. 

"Okay..." Ron said, returning the smile, and then rejoining Hermione up the corridor, as Harry watched them walking towards the stairs together, the first genuine beam on his face in months. 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Draught In Time:**

**Chapter 2**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

It was several hours later, and Ron and Hermione were pouring over their homework in the Gryffindor common room once more, on the verge of getting into the same argument as they had the day before. But as glad as Ron was to spend some time alone with his best friend, he was trying hard not to get angry with her. 

"Look, Hermione, couldn't it just be possible that Snape _did _say that fluxweed was the key ingredient in the belladonna antidote?" He said to her, making an attempt to keep his tone compromising. 

"_No,_" she disagreed. "I heard him mention fluxweed as well, Ron, but I think you misheard what Professor Snape was talking about. Because you only pick or brew it under certain moon phases, fluxweed is only used in potions that alter or change things in the physical world, according to appearance or time. It's _not_ for shielding things _from_ the affects of the physical world." 

Ron dropped his shoulders in frustration. "I still don't think so, Hermione. I was really trying to listen to Snape _this_ time. Couldn't it be possible that it was _you_ who misheard him?" 

"No, it can't!" Hermione shot back. "The key ingredient _has_ to be knotgrass! If you attempt to plant belladonna anywhere _near_ it, the enzymes that the grass produces is enough to attack the belladonna's roots and kill the plant!" 

"I don't remember hearing Snape say anything _about_ that," Ron replied stubbornly. "All I heard him say about the main ingredient in the antidote was that fluxweed was essential." Refusing to budge on the subject this time, the redhead crossed his arms over his chest and looked back across the table at Hermione. 

Instead of flinging a comeback at him, she flipped her quill to the tabletop and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as well. With a sigh, she finally said, "Okay, look. You've started brewing the potion upstairs already, haven't you?" 

Ron nodded, relaxing his tone a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I put in the two drops of dragon's blood, the gillywater, and then the asphodel, like you said. It's almost done simmering, I think." 

Hermione sat forward again. "Good. Then let's go up to your dormitory and check it out, all right? I know a way we can settle this argument without either of us failing." 

_Hermione and I, up in the dormitory... alone? _The redhead's heart skipped a beat, and he returned his best friend's heady glance, finally giving her a small nod. "All right." 

--- 

Leaning over the table in the sixth-year boys' dormitory, Hermione dipped a ladle into Ron's cauldron, to gently stir his brewing antidote. Red vapors were emanating from the potion. 

Ron stood next to her, looking down at his long roll of notes. "After the asphodel had already simmered for an hour, they changed to red," he told her, pointing out the vapors. "Was it supposed to do that?" 

She nodded, setting the ladle aside and drying her fingers against her robes. "Yeah, when they turned red that indicated the asphodel had completely dissolved. By the time the two hours are up, the potion should have turned a pale blue -" Hermione looked inside the cauldron. "- which it has. Now," she turned to him, "at this point in the procedure you and I are at odds. I say that a cup of knotgrass stems should be mixed in next as the active ingredient -" 

"And I say that it's a cup of fluxweed roots," Ron put in, holding out his Potions notes. 

Hermione looked down at them, and then took the roll of parchment and set it next to the cauldron, picking up a glass tumbler and handing it to Ron, which he took. 

As she reached over to grab the ladle, Hermione said, "I've reduced the measurements of the rest of the ingredients down for you to make up for the pint of the mixture that we're borrowing for our experiment. I've also reduced the cup of the key ingredient down for this pint. It's about ten stems, or roots, in your case." At this point she scooped up a small amount of what was in the cauldron and tipped it into the tumbler Ron was holding. "You take that, and add your fluxweed roots to it, and I'll take mine -" She picked up a second tumbler and filled it, "and I'll add my knotgrass stems to it." 

As Ron reached into his bag and pulled out the tube holding the fluxweed, he asked, "How do we know which one of the ingredients is the right one, after we add them?" 

Hermione had stuck her hand in her pocket and removed the knotgrass stems she'd been carrying, and replied, "Do we both agree on how Professor Snape said the potion would look after the key ingredient has been added?" 

"Clear," they said in unison. 

"Good," Hermione said. "well, let's do it, then." 

Casting a look at her as he did so, Ron tipped the fluxweed roots into the potion, and they hissed in the liquid as he did so. Hermione's knotgrass roots made her sample of the potion begin to bubble and froth. 

Suddenly Ron was struck with a thought. "Oh, remember? Snape said after doing that, the potion would begin to take on a distinct odor." 

"Oh, you're right!" She exclaimed, looking down into the tumbler, holding it higher up near her face to gently smell the potion. As she did so, a curl of her nutmeg hair flopped down in front of her face, brushing against the soft skin of her cheek. 

Raising his tumbler up nearer his face as well, Ron stole a glance at Hermione over the rim of the glass. Noticing the lock of hair hanging in front of her eyes, he had a sudden urge to reach over and tuck it back behind Hermione's ear. 

Forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, Ron remained transfixed by her. _I wish I could just tell her how I feel, _he thought to himself. _But if we didn't argue so much about dumb stuff, I might be able to. Like this ruddy Potions assignment, all this trouble we have to go through just because we're too stubborn to compromise... Stars, if I just tried to **act** on my real feelings for her -_

But Ron would never have the chance to finish the thought, for at that moment, the closed dormitory door, which he had been standing right next to, suddenly swung open, smacking right into the redhead. Ron stumbled, and potion splashed from the tumbler, spilling onto the carpet, his robes, and into his face. 

"Ron!" Hermione's voice cried out, her tone high-pitched and panicky as she immediately dove forward for him. 

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Ron! Are you all right?" A familiar voice rang out. The owner of the voice stepped into view a few moments later, revealing himself as Neville. 

Ron didn't answer. He tried to, but when he opened his mouth, no words would come out. Instead he was in too much shock, upon realizing what he had just done. Hurriedly he brought up a sleeve to wipe the potion off of his face, and from around his mouth before either of them noticed. 

Hermione fused herself at his side. "Ron?" She said softly. "Are you okay? You've gone pale!" 

Neville's eyes were wide and fearful. He looked back and forth between his two friends, saying, "Is he all right? Are you all right, Ron? All I did was knock into him with the door!" 

"I'm certain he's fine, Neville," Hermione said with conviction, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes," Hermione said hastily. "I'm sure Ron just got the wind knocked out of him, that's all." 

The redhead made a feeble nod, as if to confirm what Hermione had said. "Ye-yeah, I'm f-fine," Ron stammered, finally finding his voice. 

"Well... all right," Neville replied, and said worriedly, "I just came in to get my Transfigs book, that's all..." He quickly stepped over to the trunk at the foot of his bed, grabbed the book and, stumbling slightly, Neville made his way back out of the door. 

After he had gone, Hermione turned her gaze back onto Ron. "What happened?" 

He looked at her, fervency in his eyes. "... Don't want to say..." 

"Why not?" She demanded, nervousness edging her voice. "Even your freckles have gone pale!" 

"Nothing... it's nothing," Ron replied, suddenly very aware of Hermione's hands holding onto both of his. "Are we finished with the potion?" 

She blinked abruptly, and then turned back towards the table. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so. I'll put the tumblers someplace safe until later, when we can see which one's turned clear." Her hands slipped out of his then, moving forward to clear up their work. "Is that okay?" 

"S-sure," Ron said, feeling an odd sense of loss as he realized Hermione's hands were no longer holding his. With a faint feeling of sickness building in the pit of his stomach, he reached over for his Potions notes to stuff away in his rucksack. 

Hermione put a few jars of Potion ingredients away into her bag, and then slung it over her shoulder. Regarding him for a moment, she said quietly, "Are you sure you're all right?" 

The redhead nodded quickly; though the nausea was feeling worse. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he lied. 

"Well... okay," Hermione finally said. She pulled at the cuffs of her robes for a moment, and then said, "I'm going down to the common room to finish my Arithmancy essay. You coming? I know you've still got some Charms homework to do." 

"Actually, I'm kind of tired," Ron said reluctantly. "I think I'm going to take a nap." At these words, Hermione's eyebrows shot up, giving him an appraising look, so Ron hurriedly put in, "But I'll meet you down there in about an hour, okay? I promise." 

She gave a sigh then, but a quick look at her and he could tell it was a sigh of relief, which made Ron do the same. "All right, but you had better get that work done. I don't want you getting so behind that you need bailing out again, okay?" 

Ron managed a smile for her scolding. "Okay, Mum," he joked. 

Hermione smiled back, and as she slipped out the door, said, "Have a good sleep, Ron." 

As soon as she had gone, Ron ambled over to his four-poster and fell down atop it, face first. As his cheek met the soft red velvet of his bedspread, he let out a moan of dread. _Oh no, what am I going to do? Maybe I should've told her... _He thought. _Hermione would've known what to do._

_But she probably be rushing you down to the hospital wing right now, shouting hysterically to anybody that would listen that I've poisoned myself. _At that thought, Ron felt his nausea rise up higher into his throat. _And then we'll probably get into loads of trouble for concocting illicit mixtures, and Snape would probably fail us just for the bloody hell of doing it._

He rolled over, grabbing for the hem of the bedspread. _Besides, it's probably nothing anyway. I'll probably feel perfectly fine next morning, nothing wrong with me at all..._

The last of his thoughts drifted off as Ron closed his eyes, feeling sleep's whirlpool come along and sweep him up, as, unbeknownst to him or to anybody else for that matter, another flurry - of one much more magical - slowly unfolded around him... 

--- 

Ron couldn't remember his four-poster feeling this comfortable. Sure, it always had been, but something was different. The bed felt bigger, somehow, as if it had sprouted to twice its own size. But as he rolled over into the plushness of the silk and velvet bedclothes, half-asleep, he was much to tired to pay it any real heed. 

Something warm fell across his face then and, confused, Ron weakly open his eyes, wondering what it was. Breaking in from a nearby window, curtained high with gold-colored drapes, he realized it was sunlight. 

For a moment it barely registered to Ron, but a moment later he bolted upright, knowing darn good and well that there was no way he could've slept all the way through the next morning. But as his bright blue eyes fell upon the room around him, he realized with a panic-stricken pang to his stomach that he wasn't in the sixth-year's dormitory at all. As a matter of fact, he didn't even think he was still in Hogwarts. 

Where Ron was, in fact, was a grand-looking old bedroom, the years showing in the design but more than making up for it with the shiny and beautiful walnut furnishings, and the rich scarlet-colored carpet and bed-hangings. An antique-looking desk sat across the room, with a wide and handsome bookcase, crammed with books, resting some feet away. A tall mirror hung on the wall near the door, and books, quills, and parchment seemed to be scattered all over the place. 

The calendar hanging over the desk read September, the same month it had been before Ron had awaken to this strange place, but the year definitely was not. Ron was surely dumbfounded by now. _Where am I? _He thought frantically, his hands scrambled for purchase, for the ends of the bedclothes, to pull them away. But as he did so, he caught glance of the nightstand beside him. 

A photo sat there, captured in all its finery in its silvery frame, with some phrase in Latin carved around the edges. But the photo frame was not what awestruck Ron about the picture. The two people in it were surely two he had seen before, knew very well... _Of course_ they were... because... 

"That's - that's _me_!" The redhead exclaimed right out loud, snatching the photo from the table, to get a better look. And indeed it was Ron Weasley, but no way could it be the sixteen-year-old Ron Weasley that he was. The Ron in the picture looked much older, his once bright red hair now toned down to a more rustic, auburn color. He was more muscular and perhaps even a bit taller. And in the beautiful white satin dress robes, a veil of silky, silvery tulle flowing down her back and over her nutmeg curls, could only be... 

"_Hermione!"_

Suddenly a voice rang out, sounding somewhat faraway but audible nonetheless. "Ron? Are you awake?" 

Ron quickly tossed the bedspread off of himself, and looked down to notice he was wearing pajamas. Another confusion that crossed his mind, but none that was more perplexing than that voice... that voice that had called to him... 

She burst into the room at that moment, stepping into the bedroom, her eyes falling upon Ron. They seemed to sparkle at him, with an emotion that Ron knew he had seen before, in some form... 

As he stared at her, Ron realized that she, in some small ways, had changed. She too looked older, a little taller but not by very much. Her bushy brown hair, still the same as ever, was pulled back into a loose ponytail, though a few stray strands wisped across her forehead. She had rolled back the sleeves of her emerald green robes, where he could see that her exposed forearms looked slightly tanned, but her hands, before he noticed anything else about them, Ron did see - as it caught the sunlight and held it for a moment - the circle of gold that entwined her left ring finger... 

"It's about time you got up and out of bed!" She teased him, balancing her book on one hand. "Even if it is your holiday, no more sleeping until noon, Ronald Weasley!" 

Still very confused about where he was - _when_ he was - Ron arched an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean, it's _noon_?" 

Hermione turned around for a moment, setting her book down on the desk, and then back to looking at him. "Okay, so it's only twenty minutes past eleven. But nevertheless! It's a beautiful Sunday morning, and too good to waste staying in bed!" 

Wearily Ron pushed the rest of the bedclothes aside and stood up. Immediately he felt strange, like he was in someone else's body. But then as he looked down at himself, he remembered the photograph on the nightstand. _Somehow Hermione and I are ten years older... But she doesn't even seem phased by it..._

The end of the last thought died somewhere in his head as Hermione moved closer towards Ron and gave him a warm, sweet kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him. 

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Hermione's lips touch his, but slowly, as the kiss deepened and lasted longer, the terror drifted away. Carefully he slipped his arms around Hermione, kissing her back before he could even realize what he was doing. 

But as abruptly as it had started, Hermione broke the kiss, beaming at him. "Lovely good morning, hmm?" 

He grinned, though he wasn't entirely sure why. "I've... I've been wanting to do that for years..." He murmured before he could stop himself. 

Hermione gave him a peculiar look. "Oh, and what _have_ you been doing for the last four years, then? Do you have a secret twin I don't know about, coming in here and kissing your wife good morning instead?" 

Now it was Ron's turn to be confused. "_What_?" 

"Okay, okay!" She replied, holding up her hands. "Bad joke, I know. I guess I'll just never be as witty as you." She laughed. 

He sort of just smiled at her remark, not quite sure how to reply. Ron could still feel that Hermione's arms were wrapped around him; there wasn't much he could say if he wanted to. 

She was giving him a perplexed look. "What? No tactful comeback? No witty retort?" She inquired. "Is something wrong with you this morning, Ronald?" 

"Yeah, actually there is!" He suddenly exclaimed, pulling away from her as he felt the confusion and anxiety seep back into him. "I - I don't know what's... I can't understand... Why are _you_... Why am _I_..." 

Hermione reached forward and grabbed onto Ron's shoulders with both of her hands. "Love, you're scaring me. Please, tell me what's wrong!" 

Ron sighed deeply. He didn't know what else to do. Slightly nodding his head, his decision made, Ron locked eyes with her, and opened his mouth to tell her - 

_Ding, dong!_

"Oh, oh dear!" Hermione exclaimed, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder. "That's the doorbell, Harry's here." She looked back at Ron. "I invited him for brunch this morning, is that all right?" 

At those words, a relieved smile found its way onto Ron's face. _Harry! I can talk to Harry! Surely he'll be able to help me! He'll know what's going on! _Out loud, he said, "Sure, why wouldn't it be?" 

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Don't know, just thought I'd ask... I know you said you wanted us to be alone for your holiday..." Her voice drifted off as she turned back round, to pick her book up off the desk. "I've got to get the muffins out of the oven, do you think you can let Harry in?" 

"Um, yeah, sure..." Ron's said lightly, turning and looking around for the closet, for some clothes. But before he could take a step towards it, he felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder. 

Slowly he turned around to see Hermione standing behind him, her deep brown eyes full of concern. "Ron... you're - you're really all right, aren't you?" 

Subconsciously, Ron reached up and touched the hand on his shoulder, wrapping his fingers around Hermione's hand. A moment later, he noticed his hand was holding hers, but he wasn't entirely sure why he had done it. Sure, he had always wanted to, but it was strange to not even think about it. "I... I'll be okay," he said quietly, hoping to reassure her. "It must've been just a strange dream I had, or something." 

The worried look on Hermione's face remained creased there for a moment longer, but then, inexplicably, it fell away and she smiled. "Well, if you're sure..." She gave Ron's hand a squeeze. "I'm going back down to the kitchen to get things ready." 

"All right," Ron replied, not knowing what else to say. But as Hermione slipped out of the bedroom and out of sight, he called back to her. "Hermione!" 

Quickly, she reappeared in the doorway. "Yes?" 

"I... I think I was wrong," he told her, sort of smiling. "It wasn't fluxweed at all." 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN - **From here on out in the fic, there _will_ be some minor H/G-ness. I hope everyone's cool with that. ;-) 

--- 

**A Draught In Time:**

**Chapter 3**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

When Ron opened the front door, in response to the ringing doorbell, it almost shocked him to see his best friend standing there. Everything was happening so fast, and it was all so unearthly strange. For several moments, Ron didn't speak; he didn't even say hello when he opened the door for his friend. All he could do was stand and stare, not knowing what, exactly, to do. 

Harry Potter cocked an eyebrow at his best friend, half in amusement, half in confusion. "Erm, mate? You going to let me in, or are you going to just stand there like a zombie?" 

Ron blinked. "Uh, let you in, I guess." The redhead stepped aside slowly, and Harry walked in. 

As the young man shrugged off his cloak, Ron looked him, realizing that he really hadn't changed much, either. He still looked the same, except he was taller and skinnier, if that were possible. But Harry looked more lean than gangly, more slender. And his black hair was still as messy as ever. But even in Ron's current state, and despite the age difference, Ron had the distinct feeling that something was different about his best friend. 

Harry hung his cloak on the coat stand next to the door, turned back around, and gave Ron a smile. "So, what're we having for brunch?" 

"Erm... whatever Hermione... made... I suppose," Ron stammered. And then suddenly, without warning, the redhead snatched Harry's arm, placing a viselike grip upon his elbow. "Listen, I really need to talk to you! Something crazy has happened. You're the only person who might believe me." 

Harry's smile faded, and a look of worry creased his face. "What? What's the matter?" 

"Come with me," Ron replied, and dragged him out of the front room, towards the direction of the hall. "Is there a back room somewhere?" 

"You mean the den?" Harry was confused. 

"Yeah, I guess so. Where is it?" 

"Okay..." Harry said, planting his feet, and stopping himself and Ron, in the middle of the front room. "What's the joke? You're acting very weird, Ron." 

"There is no joke!" He exclaimed back. "Just tell me where the den is! I'll explain everything if we can just find a quiet room in this palace." 

Harry raised his eyebrows again, but decided to comply. "Go straight ahead, to the hall. It's at the end of corridor." 

Without a reply, Ron started walking again, pulling Harry alongside, until they reached the end of the hall. He opened the shiny chestnut door and stepped inside the room. Harry followed, and once he was inside, Ron closed it. Finding the closest place to sit - an overstuffed, beige armchair - the redhead dropped hastily down into it. 

Harry, however, didn't sit. He stood in front of his friend, and remained quiet for several moments as Ron composed himself. Finally, after his best friend looked up, he decided to speak. 

"Tell me what's wrong, mate." 

Ron sighed, at long last, and replied. "You'd better sit down, too. It's a bit of a story." 

The jet-haired man looked behind him, and then grabbed the wooden desk chair. Pulling it near the armchair, he sat down, backwards in the chair, and looked expectantly at Ron. 

"I don't belong here," the redhead uttered, returning Harry's stare. "Something's gone horribly wrong." 

Harry's bright green eyes widened. "What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?" Pause. "Have you and Hermione had a fight?" 

"No!" Ron vehemently replied. "Listen. How old am I?" 

More puzzled eyes. "Uhm, last I looked, you were twenty-six." 

"So, it was ten years, just like I thought," the redhead murmured. And then, to Harry, "No, mate. No, I'm not. I'm only sixteen. I was sixteen when I fell asleep. Then when I woke up, I was here, and twenty-six, and... married... to Hermione..." 

"You're not making any sense." 

Ron sighed, gathering his forehead in his hand. "No, I guess you probably don't think so. But it's true." He looked back up at Harry. "Give me veritaserum if you don't believe me. I promise I'm telling the truth." 

Silence. Harry remained sitting in the desk chair, his arms crossed, but he was chewing his lip, thinking. "If you're this serious..." He finally said at last, his voice trailing off. 

"Oh, I am." 

"Well, then, tell me how it happened, and then maybe you can convince me." 

Ron sighed. He ran a quick hand through his hair, in thought. "Well... I'm not sure where to start." 

"You said you were sixteen when you last went to sleep," Harry replied. "That sounds like as good a place as any." 

The redhead nodded in agreement, and at long last, he leaned back in the armchair, feeling himself relax slightly. "Well... we're in sixth year at Hogwarts, or... were, I guess. We have a potion due - the antidote for belladonna - for Snape's class next Thursday..." Pause. "Hermione and I were working on it. But we were having this argument about what the key ingredient was. I said it was a cup of fluxweed roots, she said it was a cup of knotgrass stems. We just couldn't agree. So I took some of the potion and put fluxweed in it, and Hermione took some and put knotgrass in it. We were going to see which potion turned clear, so we'd know which one was right. Only..." 

"Only what?" Harry pressed gently. 

"Neville opened the door and knocked into me and I accidentally drank the potion with the fluxweed in it!" Ron exclaimed. "And then I woke up here! Don't you see?" When Harry didn't reply, Ron charged on. "I remember Hermione had told me that fluxweed alters things in the physical world, like time. That must've been how I got here. The fluxweed combined with the other ingredients must have been enough to slingshot me ahead in time." He started to put his head in his hands again, but Harry suddenly reached over, grabbing his wrist and stopping him. Ron looked up at him, a mixture of curiosity and despair on his face. 

"Do you love Hermione?" 

The redhead blinked. "_What_?" 

"Do you love Hermione?" Harry repeated quietly. "I mean... did you, then? Before you woke up and found yourself... here?" 

Redness jumped into his cheeks. "I really don't see what this has to do with anything, mate..." 

"Tell me." 

Ron let out a long breath, suddenly feeling his heart beating a bit faster upon hearing Harry's question. "I don't..." His voice drifted off. "I don't... remember a time when I didn't, anymore." 

A smile spread across Harry's face. "Then I believe you." 

Ron almost wanted to laugh. "Thank goodness, I was scared to death nobody would..." But then a realization snapped him alert, and his ears turned slightly pink. "Wh-why would that make you believe me? Even then, you knew I did." 

Harry chuckled softly. "Well, look at what you're doing now. Back in school, before you and Hermione started dating, whenever how you felt about her came up in a conversation, you would turn red and start stammering, much like you did when I asked you now." Pause. "You see, twenty-six year-old Ron doesn't do that anymore." 

"I don't?" The redhead grinned. "What _do _I do?" 

But before Harry could reply, the brass knob in the chestnut door turned and a figure materialized, standing at the threshold. She looked slightly confused, but there was a smile on her face. 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, stepping into the room and giving him a friendly embrace. "How're you doing? It's so good to see you, it's been awhile, y'know." 

"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied quickly, turning his attention to her. "Sorry 'bout that. But surely Ron's told you how busy Auror life has been these days, being reassigned ambassadors by the Ministry and all. I envy him for being lucky enough to get a holiday." 

"Lucky to stay home instead of out seeing the world?" Hermione laughed good-naturedly, and then looked at Ron. "What were you two doing in here?" 

"Oh, uh..." The redhead stammered. "Just, er, talking and stuff..." 

Harry picked it up for him. "I... I haven't written Ron in several days, so we were just having a visit." Quickly he changed the subject. "Something smells good, what're you making?" 

Hermione smiled. "Banana nut muffins, of course. In honor of Ron's first day of his vacation, his favorite!" She stepped over to him and looped her arm in his. "Everything's ready, why don't we go to the breakfast nook and tuck in?" 

"Sounds good to me," Harry replied, leading the way out the den. Ron and Hermione followed, her arm still entwined with his. As they left the room together, crossing the hallway to the dining room, Ron couldn't help but look down at Hermione and smile. She beamed back and slipped her hand down lower, wrapping her hand around his. Without even thinking about it, Ron automatically gave her hand an affectionate squeeze back. 

As the three of them walked into the dining room, the table spread with a modest array of muffins, sausage, French toast, and fruit, Hermione started up a new bit of conversation, a warm glint filling her eyes. "Ginny's sure been at home bored to death without you. She asks me to Floo over just about everyday." 

"Ginny?" Ron suddenly blurted, sitting down at the table. "What are you -" 

But when Harry shot him a quick, poignant glance, Ron cut himself off. 

"Oh, she probably has been, since she hasn't been working as much," Harry said to Hermione, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Sorry she couldn't come today, but she hasn't visited her mum in awhile and Molly wanted to take her out shopping." 

"For the baby?" Hermione grinned. 

Ron's eyes glanced up from his plate, staring at Harry. They were as wide as saucers. Hermione didn't see the look, but of course, Harry couldn't miss it. 

"Er." 

--- 

After Hermione had cleared the brunch dishes away from the table and carried them off to the kitchen, Ron practically shoved Harry out of the dining room door and into the adjoining drawing room. He quickly shut the door and turned to his best friend, a frenzied look in his eyes. 

"You've got a thing with shutting us up in rooms today," Harry mused, noting the tightly closed door. 

"Fell through time, remember?" Ron replied. "Besides, d'you think I want Hermione to know what's going on? I hardly know what's happened to me; I don't need everyone in the world to know about it." Pause. "Listen, you're really going to have to fill me in, here. I was sixteen yesterday. I don't know a single lick about my life at twenty-six. I can't walk around empty-headed like this." 

Harry put his hands on his best friend's shoulders. "Calm down, Ron. It's going to be okay, I promise. Listen to me," he gently pushed Ron down into a chair, and then sat down himself, across from the redhead. "I'm going to go to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley as soon as I can. The Potions masters who work there know the ins and outs of every potion ingredient that's on the market. I could go to St. Mungo's and speak to the Healers, but you know how complicated that can get. Diagon Alley would be the better trip; the apothecaries won't ask hundreds of questions. 

"But in the meantime, you're going to have to get along as best as you can with life as a twenty-six year-old." 

Ron nodded silently, feeling his racing pulse slow a little bit. "Then fill me in, mate. What about me and Hermione?" He paused momentarily, not sure whether to feel amused or shocked, "And you and... Ginny." 

Harry laughed. "Well, we're all married, of course. Four years ago, you and Hermione tied the knot, and Ginny and I did, too. The four of us were wed only three months apart." 

Ron smirked then. "Must've been a crazy year for my mum, planning two weddings that were so close together." 

"Well, you and I were so busy with our Auror studies that we really didn't have much of a choice. Three years of studying, then another year of training abroad. We'd be home maybe for a few days, but then off again," Harry explained. 

The redhead blinked. "So, we made it, mate? We're Aurors?" 

"Yep. Four years now." Harry paused, and a bemused expression crossed his face. "Stars, it's so odd hearing you speak like this. You don't have any recollection of our studies, our missions, or anything, do you?" 

Ron shook his head disdainfully. "Nope. There's nothing to remember." He looked back up at Harry, and changed the subject. "Okay, so I'm an Auror. What does Hermione do?" 

"She owns a bookstore, in Hogsmeade. She's had it ever since we graduated from Hogwarts. Actually, she and Ginny run it together. When Fred and George opened the second joke shop there, they helped her open her store, too, right across the street," Harry replied. 

The redhead couldn't help but grin then. "Hermione running a bookstore... why am I not surprised?" He laughed. "What'd she name it?" 

A warm, yet faraway, twinkle appeared in Harry's gaze. " 'The Gardenia.' " Pause. "You don't remember, do you?" 

Ron looked thoughtful, as if trying to summon up some distant memory. "Well... gardenias are Hermione's favorite flowers, I know. The perfume I gave her for Christmas fifth year smelled like gardenias, that's why I got it for her." Pause. "Is _that _why she gave that name to her bookstore?" 

"Well, sort of..." Harry answered. "But there's more. Could you still recall it? It did happen in sixth year," he said matter-of-factly. 

Ron pursed lip in thought, and then shook his head. "Should I?" 

Something changed in Harry's face; it suddenly filled with doubt. "Well, wait. I... don't know if I should tell you. If you know too much about the future, you might jinx time -" 

"Mate, I'm not even supposed to be here now. Time's already been jinxed," Ron replied. He sighed inwardly at that moment, his words reminding him of the problem at hand. 

The jet-haired young man, however, didn't notice. "Well..." He considered for a moment. "All right. I suppose it couldn't hurt." He contemplated for a minute, and then continued. "Surely you remember how you always teased Hermione about reading so much, being such a bookworm." 

He nodded, as Harry went on. 

"Well, I remember... it was coming up Valentine's Day, and I was pushing you to finally do something really nice for her, to finally let her know how you feel about her. So, in Hogsmeade, you bought her some Arithmancy book she'd been wanting for ages. And in it, you signed... how'd it go?... 'You're the only girl I know who'd rather have a book than candy on Valentine's Day, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Love, Ron.' And then you put a flower - a gardenia - inside with it." Harry grinned. "That swept her off her feet, that one." 

Ron's face grew hot. "R-really?" 

"Yep," he laughed. "Not exactly a Shakespearean sonnet, but Hermione knew what you were trying to say. And besides," Harry's smile turned jaunty, "you know Hermione and books go together like salt and pepper. If there were some book she wanted badly enough, she'd probably wade through a river of blast-ended skrewts just to have it -" 

"Hey, what's the big idea! Leaving me to wash the dishes by myself while you two lay around in the drawing room?" 

Startled by the new voice, Ron jerked to attention. His eyes found Hermione, standing yet again in the doorway and staring at them. Her sleeves were pushed up and her nutmeg curls were still tied into their ponytail. "What is it with you guys and your disappearing acts today?" She said, smiling. "You keeping a secret from me? My birthday's not coming up, is it?" 

She came over to sit on the arm of Ron's chair, and as she did so, he instinctively reached up to wrap his arm around her waist. He hadn't even realized it until Hermione put her hand on his and intertwined their fingers. 

Harry got to his feet then. "Well, I hate to shove off so soon, Herm, but I've got a few errands to take care of -" he cast a furtive look at Ron - "and by then, Ginny will be expecting me home, and she'll probably be tuckered out from her day with Molly. I hate being away from her for too long, while her time is so close." 

"Of course not," she agreed, leaning forward to give Harry a quick hug goodbye. "Ask her if she'd like to meet for dinner later in the week, if she's feeling well. It's been ages since the four of us have gone out to sup together." 

He grinned. "Oh, I'm sure she'd love to. I'll definitely mention it to her. I'll talk you to guys later on. Brunch was great today." 

As he started for the door, Ron abruptly got to his feet. "Wait, Harry, I'll see you out." 

They left the room together then, walking side-by-side, mostly in silence, until they reached the front door of the house. Ron placed his hand on the knob, but before he opened it, he turned back to his friend. "I'm still kind of... afraid, mate. I don't know how to act around her. What if I slip up?" 

Harry sighed and smiled. "Trust me, Ron. You. Are. Going. To. Be. Fine. She's your best friend, your wife. You'll know how to act around her. Believe me." He paused, plucking his cloak off the coat stand, and then changed the subject, "I'm going to make that stop at the Apothecary as soon as I leave here. Then I'll get in touch with you tomorrow." 

Finally Ron nodded. "All right. I'll talk to you then," he replied, and opened the door for his friend. As Harry stepped out and started down the front walk, he waved and winked reassuringly. The next moment, he had Disapparated. 

"I sure hope you're right," the redhead murmured to himself, closing the front door. 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN - **Sorry that this chapter is slightly shorter than the other have been so far. Because of that, chapter five shouldn't take too long to get uploaded; I already have it finished. ;-) 

--- 

**A Draught In Time:**

**Chapter 4**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

After saying goodbye to Harry, Ron found his way back to the drawing room, but only found it empty. Going out the way he came in, through the dining room, he glanced into the hallway, and spotted a two-way door, which he figured lead into the kitchen. Nervously he walked over and pushed it open, and the moment he did so, his eyes found Hermione. 

Her hair was still tied back, as she reshelved some cookbooks back into the bookcase, which stood against the wall next to the stove. Ron leaned against the doorway, suddenly unable to tear his gaze away from her. It was a simple task, merely putting books away, but Hermione's slender form, lost in her green robes as she moved about, simply captivated Ron all the more. 

A moment later, she replaced the last book and turned around, her eyes brightening when she saw him. His face turned pink then, feeling as if he'd been caught spying on her. But it was Hermione who looked slightly shy, biting her lip as she stared at him. 

"Oh, I know that look. You weren't possibly about to say I look beautiful, were you? My hair's a mess, my clothes are wrinkled from cooking all day... I look horrid, Ronald!" 

Ron smiled at her words. "You've never looked a mess a day in your life." 

Hermione brushed her hands off on her robes and walked over to him, slipping her arms around his torso. "You always know the one thing to say to make me smile. As long as I've known you, you always have," she said softly, still smiling. 

His eyes widened, just slightly. It surprised him to know that he was more taken aback, not with Hermione putting her arms around him, but by more with what she'd said. "I - I do?" He stammered. "I never knew that. I always thought... well, I mean, you... you never said so." 

Her grip on him loosened slightly and she stared at him, keenly in the eyes. As she did so, a pang of fear erupted in Ron's stomach. 

"I said the wrong thing, didn't I," he said, sighing. "I'm just not... feeling myself today. I'm sorry, Hermione. Really." 

But she was shaking her head. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. These past few months you've either been abroad or working late at the Ministry, and when your holidays finally start, I've hardly paid attention to you. All I could do was talk Harry's ear off about how he's doing, and how Ginny's pregnancy is going..." 

"You didn't do anything wrong," Ron replied, smiling reassuringly. "You... you just caught me off-guard, that's all." Pause. "Besides, I'd quite like to hear about how my sister is doing myself. I can't believe she's -" He cut himself off. "I mean... I... still... can't believe she's going to... have a baby... soon!" 

Hermione grinned, and seemed to relax. "Truth be told, I can't, either. And before us! I always thought you and I would be the first to have a child... I mean, didn't you?" 

"Huh?" Ron blinked, incredulous. He swallowed hard. The idea of being married had been a shock at first, but now the talk of having babies, children of his own, was a little too much for his still-sixteen-year-old self to take in. 

She gave a sort of understanding sigh. "Yeah, I know. You said you wanted to wait, because things with the Aurors have been so busy lately..." 

Ron nodded meekly, and tried to think of a response. _What in the world am I supposed to say? I can't... I mean, I'm not supposed to be here at all, and if Hermione asks... I can't... I shouldn't... I mean, it wouldn't be right..._ Then a thought hit him. Something that Harry had said earlier that day, about the Aurors. 

"Y-yeah," he said suddenly. "With the Ministry giving us all of those... ambassador assignments... I don't know when things are going to settle down, when I'll be able to be home... more often." Pause. "I wouldn't want... to be away from you." 

"I know, I wouldn't want you to, either," Hermione replied, giving a small smile. "So I guess I can wait... a little longer, I mean... because I know it'll be worth it." 

Ron smiled back and nodded, not knowing what else to say. A long stretch of silence filled the room then, seeming to end the conversation. 

Hermione moved away from him a few minutes later and over to the sink, where the recently washed dishes were sitting in the drying rack. "What time is it?" She asked, pulling out her wand. 

He watched her bewitch the now-clean dishes, and as he watched them fly across the room and into the cabinets and drawers where they belonged, he noticed the pair of wall clocks hanging above the sink. One resembled the clock that hung in the Burrow's kitchen; the other read the normal time. 

"Just after four," he said simply. He was still watching her, only her back was to him again, and she now moved quite wordlessly. "Are we going somewhere?" 

"Oh, no," Hermione replied. "Not unless you want to." 

"No, that's okay..." Ron said lightly and leaned back against the doorway, crossing his arms. "It's still early, though. Is there anything you want to do? Do you just want to spend the rest of the day home?" 

She finally turned around again, a pleasant look on her face. "Well, yeah. If that's all right with you." 

He smiled. "Why wouldn't it be? It's my holidays, isn't it? So much free time!" 

"Yeah, a whole week," Hermione said. The dishes were all put away; she was closing the cabinet doors with her wand now. "Is there anything special you want to do with it?" 

Ron reached over for Hermione's free hand, and as he clutched it, she lost her concentration; half of the cupboard doors still hanging open. "Being with you is enough for me." 

"Are you sure?" She replied, smiling impishly. "Tomorrow's the dreaded beginning of the week - Monday. I've got to be at the bookshop in the morning. You'll have to find _some way_ to entertain yourself while I'm gone." 

"Yeah, I guess so," the redhead grinned, letting go of Hermione's hand to wrap his arms around her waist instead. He relished being able to hold her so close, like he'd wanted to for so long. _If I ever get back, I'm not going to keep my feelings from her anymore. I'm not going to be afraid anymore, _he thought. Out loud, "But... why don't I meet you for lunch? I'll take you to the Three Broomsticks. It'll be just down the road." 

"I'd love that." Hermione beamed at him, and then glanced back around at the kitchen. "Oh, stars. Half the cabinets still open." Her wand was still out, and with one flick of her wrist, they all swung closed. "I'm kind of tired, from brunch and everything," she said suddenly, turning back to Ron. "You wouldn't mind if I took a nap, would you?" 

He shook his head. "Of course, I wouldn't! You've been up all day, you deserve a rest." 

Hermione smiled and leaned in, and this time Ron met her halfway, their mouths capturing each other and kissing, gently. Ron felt Hermione's fingers curling at the nape of his neck, and he smiled through the kiss. It almost felt as if she were melting into him. 

It ended several moment later, much like the same way the kiss she had given him that morning had, Hermione's eyes shining. Silently she slid out of his grasp, and disappeared through the kitchen door. Ron stood against the baseboard, watching her as she walked down the hall and into the front room, turned and then went upstairs. 

"I love you." 

--- 

The next morning came quickly, making the events from the day before feel very much like a blur. As Ron rolled over in the four-poster double bed, it was dark, and he wasn't sure where he was at first. As he drowsily sat up, he realized that the curtains around the bed had been drawn. He sighed. 

"Oh, good. It was just a dream. I'm back in the dormitory, It's still sixth year at Hogwarts, and I'm definitely -" 

But as got out of the bed and pulled back the curtains, " - still in the future." 

Ron sighed, stood up, and started across the room towards the closet. "What am I going to do?" He said wearily. "How am I supposed to have a job, or a wife, if I'm not even -" 

He abruptly turned back towards the bed, the thought of her striking him immediately. "Hermione?" He exclaimed, yanking the bed's curtains back, yet only revealing the empty bed. 

"Oh... the bookstore...right..." He mumbled, the memory of yesterday afternoon's events seeping into him. "But wait! I told her I'd meet her for lunch! What time is it?" Ron stole a glance at the bedroom clock. The hands indicated that it was just after 11 AM. 

Quickly Ron changed out of his pajamas, and grabbed the first thing he saw in the closet, some blue robes. He hastily got dressed, and as he ran a fast comb through his hair, glancing in the mirror hanging over the dresser, he spotted, on top of the bureau, a wand. _It has to be mine, _Ron mused, and picked it up, stashing it away in his pocket. Shooting another look at the clock, he breezed out of the bedroom towards the stairs. He'd just made it to the landing before he stopped, and took a few steps backwards. 

The door to the right was ajar, and something inside caught his eye. Ron carefully pushed the door open all the way, and looked inside. 

For the most part, it appeared to be just another bedroom in the house, but it was empty, save for a few boxes scattered here and there. The carpet seemed to have been recently removed, as well, as small pieces of lint and carpet littered the hardwood floor. 

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion, but then his rational mind kicked in. _Of course I'm not going to know what's going on, _he thought with a sigh, closing the door, and then continued heedlessly down the stairs. It occurred to him then, as he paced through the front room, that Ron wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get to the bookshop to meet Hermione. He was positive that his twenty-six-year-old self must've known how to Apparate, but Ron at sixteen certainly hadn't the faintest. 

He wandered into the hallway, still thinking about how he was going to get to Hogsmeade, as he turned into the kitchen. _Maybe Hermione left a note or something, _he wondered, pushing open the door and stepping into the room. But the moment he did, his eyes fell upon the fireplace, and it came to him. 

"Floo!" He exclaimed, rushing over to the hearth. "Of course!" He ran his hands over the bricks, and a few moments later, found what he was looking for. On the side of the fireplace, a small vase was mounted, filled with glittery powder. Ron grinned and pulled out his wand. 

"_Incendio_," he uttered, pointing the wand at the fireplace, and immediately a burst of flames appeared in the pit, crackling merrily against the hearth. Quickly Ron snatched a pinch of the Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Without a second thought he stepped into the flames, shouting, "Hogsmeade!" as clearly as he could. 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A Draught in Time:**

**Chapter 5**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

The next thing he knew, Ron's feet slammed into the ground and he nearly fell over. But instead he fell against the grate, and hurriedly stepped out before the flames could singe him. As he did, he looked around, wondering where he was. 

As he noticed a goblin sitting in a corner table in the room, and a few hags scattered about, Ron unpleasantly realized that the grate the Floo Network had relocated him to was in the Hog's Head. Quickly he walked across the floor and out the front door of bar, cringing. The same sign with the picture of the pig's head still hung over the front door, and the building was still as decrepit as ever. He shuddered, but swiftly shrugged it off, and found High Street. 

Ron was relieved to see that the small village was still very much the way he remembered it. He smiled as he passed Gladrags Wizardwear, Honeydukes', the Three Broomsticks. All the familiar places were still here, along with several new ones. Pitch Fever Quidditch Supplies was one - with several young children, their faces pressed to the window to admire the latest racing broom, which made him smirk. 

Before he knew it, a sparkly sign with some very familiar words came into view, perched above a window with some very unusual-looking things hanging in it. The same words were inked across the glass: _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. _

Ron barely had time to laugh before a second glance across the road caused a pang of nervousness to erupt in his stomach. The small store standing there had a floral pattern painted around the sill of the show window, as well as the shop door. The trim near the roof sported the same design, and in-between the two, large green letters had been swathed across the wall with a flourish, _The Gardenia, _and below that, in smaller letters: _School Supply and Bookstore._

Unable to contain a smile, Ron crossed the street and stopped at the entrance to the shop, opening the door grandly and stepping inside. He looked around, surveying the store. The walls were absolutely covered with shelves of books - school textbooks, reference, fiction, in rows that never seemed to end. Tables filled with parchment, quills, and other supplies for sale were also crammed in every corner of the room. The shop was modestly filled, several groups of people flipping through books, looking through quills, chatting amicably. 

Ron brushed past an aisle of spellbooks and how-to volumes before finding his way over the checkout desk, where he spotted Hermione. The mere sight of her caused his heart to beat just a little bit faster. 

She hadn't noticed him yet; Hermione was leaning heavily over the counter, talking animatedly to a young girl, around nine or ten years old. She was holding a book between them, its bright illustrations dancing merrily across the front cover. 

"...That one I know you'll adore. I did too, when I was younger. It's really lovely. It's all about a tiny little family, the Clocks, who live underneath the floors of an old cottage, where they borrow things from the humans for their home... postage stamps for paintings... and even thread spools for chairs!" Hermione beamed. 

"Really?" The little girl said, her voice equally small. "Do the humans ever find them?" 

"Oh, wait until you see! Little Arrietty, the Clock daughter, makes friends with a little boy who comes to live in the house..." Hermione's voice drifted off momentarily, as she finally saw Ron, who was still standing near the counter, watching. She grinned. "... But I don't want to spoil it for you! Read it and see for yourself!" 

The little girl beamed back, and started to the door. "I will! Thanks, Hermione!" 

"You're welcome, Emily! G'bye!" Hermione replied, waving as the girl joined the witch and wizard - obviously her parents - who were standing by the exit. 

"Hi!" She greeted Ron, leaning across the counter to give him a quick kiss hello. "I'm glad to see you made it. I thought you might just sleep all day," she teased. 

"Oh, ha ha," he replied, rolling his eyes amusedly. "Oh, hey - are Fred and George over at the shop? I passed by just a few moments ago. I was going to stop in, but I knew you were waiting for me." 

Hermione looked puzzled. "No... don't you remember? They closed up last week to take a trip to Canada. There's some new novelty shop franchising over there, so they went to check out the competition. I reckon they'll be back in a few days, though." 

"Oh... right..." Ron sighed. "Anyway... are you ready to go?" 

Hermione gave her hair a tousle. "Well, truth be told, I wasn't expecting you this soon. I guess I'm kind of busy today," she said sheepishly, glancing around the shop. "Would you hate waiting just a little longer?" 

He smiled. "It's no problem. I can bring something over from the tavern, if you can't get away." 

"Oh, no, I'll be able to. Ginny said she would be able to come in for an hour or two. You and I can sneak off then," Hermione smirked. 

Ron leaned against the counter. "Ginny's dropping in? I'd quite love to see her, actually." 

"She said the same thing when I talked to her this morning!" Hermione replied, looking pleased. "When I told her you were coming to meet me for lunch, she said she'd have to get here early to say hello -" She cut herself off then, suddenly looking up towards the doorway. "- And you won't have to wait very long! Here she comes now, with Harry." 

"Ron!" 

He turned around quickly, and spotted his best friend right away, standing next to a woman who was packing quite a bit of pounds. She'd grown her red hair much longer now, and had it pulled back into a braid. But there was no mistaking that cheery face - 

"Ginny!" He said happily, amazed at the sight of her. She'd grown into quite an impressive young woman. Before he could say anything else, she bounced forward and embraced him, though somewhat awkwardly because of her bulging abdomen. 

She giggled at that. "Sorry. I've gotten huge, haven't I?" 

Ron was speechless as he stared at her. "Y-you sure have!" 

Hermione hopped out from behind the counter and stood next to her husband, smiling at Ginny. "I'd say you're about ready to pop, Gin! When is the kiddo due?" 

"Oh, in another week or so," she said, sighing pleasantly, placing her hands on her stomach. "I think Harry and I are ready." 

Ron glanced sideways at his best friend, who was wearing the same expression as Ginny. But when he noticed Ron's stare, Harry's expression promptly changed. Determined. Business-like. "Oh, yeah... Ron, I need to talk with you in private for a moment. It's really... important," he stressed. 

Ron nodded, knowing what he meant. "Yeah, sure. But I was going to take Hermione over to the Three Broomsticks for lunch, though..." He looked over at her for a moment, questionably. 

"Oh, go ahead!" She complied, nudging Ginny over to the counter. "Ginny and I will just chat until you get back." 

"Okay," Ron agreed, then turned to follow Harry out of the shop. On his way out, though, he heard a snippet of what the two women were saying. 

"So... have you told him about it yet?" 

"Not yet, Gin... I'm still not sure how. Last night we were -" 

But the shop door closed then, cutting off their voices, and he felt Harry elbow him in the side. "Hey, are you awake?" 

"I'm fine," Ron replied, following his friend around to the back of the building. "So... what's the report? Did you... did you go to the Apothecary yesterday?" 

Harry leaned against the wall of the store. "Yeah, I did," he replied, keeping his voice low. "I spoke to the Potions masters there; I kept things pretty discreet. You mentioned that it was the belladonna antidote that you'd been working with, when this whole snafu happened?" 

"Yeah, it was." 

"Well... when I talked to them... well, I don't know how troubling this is going to be, but..." 

"Just tell me," Ron said simply. "What is it? Will it just wear off, like most of the potions do? Or what?" 

Harry shook his head. "Not this time. Some of those mixtures are tricky. And especially when accidents like this happen, the results can sometimes be... irrevocable." 

Ron's eyes widened. "Wh-what do you mean? I'm not going to be able to get back?" 

"Wait, no, I didn't say that! Exactly..." The jet-haired man exclaimed. "It's just that..." He sighed, "...The process it'll take to reverse the effects won't be... easy." He looked up at his best friend. "See, I asked the head master at the Apothecary about what could happen if you put fluxweed into the belladonna antidote instead of knotgrass, and he basically confirmed what you told me, that one of the possible results, though rare, could be that you might slingshot yourself ahead through time." 

"Well, if he knows that it could happen," Ron mused, "surely he must have some idea how to fix it." 

"Well, he did," Harry replied. "But it's like I told you, it's not exactly easy. Some magic can only be reserved under the most precise conditions. And... the only way we'd be able to get you back where you belong..." Pause. "...is if we would be able to find some ten-year-old fluxweed." 

The redhead was silent for several moments, pacing back and forth, as he attempted to sort out what his friend had told him. "So you mean... fluxweed from the same year I used it to get here?" He finally said. 

Harry nodded. "Exactly. And that won't be very easy. It's the same thing as... like, fruits and vegetables. You can't possibly expect to go into a store and ask for carrots that old, or apples." 

Ron stopped in his tracks and looked up at him. "So... what do we do?" 

"Honestly?" Harry lowered his head, no longer meeting his friend in the eyes. "I don't know." Pause. "If we never find ten-year-old fluxweed, you'll be stuck here... permanently." 

The redhead grabbed his friend by the shoulders, causing Harry to finally return his stare. "But there's one thing I don't understand. It's not as if I used fluxweed from the future to _get_ to the future. Why do I need fluxweed from the past to get back to the past?" 

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You see, that particular fluxweed was what got you here. That's why you need fluxweed from the same year to get you back." He paused, again, and sighed. "It's a pretty sticky situation." 

"Yeah, no kidding," Ron replied, slumping against the wall. He felt defeated. As much as he was beginning to feel comfortable here, he knew that it was impossible to stay. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again. "Well, we have a week to do _something, _haven't we? Hermione said I had this whole week off for my holidays. After that will be when we're really in hot water." 

Harry ran a hand through his untidy hair. "I say you're right. We've got seven more days to try and find the fluxweed. And I'll tell you what I'll do," he stood up straight then, feeling a bit more confident now, "Since I finished my assignment in Iceland several days ago, I'm back at my desk at this Ministry all this week, wrapping up the paperwork, and so I'll be home. I'll have plenty of time, so I'll make a list of places to go, people to ask, anything I can think of to try and find the fluxweed you need. I'll leave no stone unturned, I promise." 

"Well, wait," Ron proclaimed, his face creasing with concern. "Don't you want me to help? I don't want to have you do all of this, without me even lifting a finger. It wouldn't be right." 

But Harry only smiled. "Trust me, it's all right. Ginny's expecting me to be away from home all week, but this is your time off. You've got a wife to attend to, after all. And speaking of which," He stepped around the corner of the building, bringing the street back into view, "she's expecting you to take her to lunch, isn't she?" 

"Yeah, I nearly forgot!" Ron exclaimed, falling into step beside his friend as they made their way back to the front of the building. "I tell you, Harry, I'm starting to get used to it, but it's still feels so... weird." As they reached the street, he stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You know what happened yesterday? She was talking to me about... about having children! I had no idea how to reply to that! I think I might've even upset her, but then... I don't know. She just acted as if nothing had happened." 

Harry grinned to himself, and said to his friend, as he spotted Hermione coming out the front door of the shop and rushing over to them, "I guess some things just _never _ change, then, do they?" 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN -** I just wanted to take the chance to tell you that we're more than halfway through the story now! Including this chapter, there are only five left. So hang on for the ride, I think you're gonna love it. (And as for what you've been hinting at in the reviews, I'm pleading the fifth!) ;-) 

P.S. - Thanks millions for all of your lovely reviews so far! Your compliments mean so much to me. Don't stop now! 

--- 

**A Draught in Time:**

**Chapter 6**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

Lunch at the Three Broomsticks was a quiet, ordinary affair, as Ron and Hermione dined on a platter of Madame Rosmerta's roasted chicken, along with several tankards of butterbeer. Many times during the meal, Hermione had looked up at him, as if contemplating something, but then merely looked back down at her plate instead. Ron was repeatedly getting the feeling that she wanted to say something, but what that could possibly be he hadn't an idea. The whole ordeal of being here hadn't lost that feeling of strangeness, as Ron was all to aware of the fact that he really didn't know a single thing about whatever life his twenty-six-year-old self was living. 

But nevertheless, Ron didn't want to sit there and do nothing. Finishing off the last of his food and pushing the plate away, he said to her, "Hermione? Is something wrong? Have I... upset you?" 

She looked up quite abruptly, and blurted, "No, no of course not! What makes you say that?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just, you keep looking at me like you're going to say something, but then you don't. If something's bothering you, I just want to know what it is." 

Hermione reached across the table, laying her hand on his. She smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, love, I'm fine. You haven't done anything. It's just been busy at the shop today. I feel kind of worried, leaving Ginny there alone. But she insisted she'd be fine. You know how she is." 

Ron had to smile then. Ginny sounded like the same persistent witch, all right. "Yeah, you bet I do." Pause. "I saw you in the store today, sounding as if you were guiding another in your footsteps," he teased, referring to the girl from that morning. 

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that I was. You know, there are more of us out there than you think. And one day we're going to take over!" She teased back. "Books _everywhere, _everywhere you go! There'll be no escape!" 

He shook his head, amusedly, and then looked back up at her. For a moment he just stared at her, and it occurred to him that she really _had _changed along with the years. She seemed so much more open, and playful. She had laughed more in the past two days than Ron remembered her doing so in a month. Wondrously he mused if that was because of him, because it was how he always tried to get Hermione to be more like when they were still kids. 

Ron blinked and glanced away suddenly, hoping Hermione hadn't realized his intense staring. Trying to appear casual again, he attempted to continue the conversation. "What _was _that book you were talking about, when I came in? I don't think I've ever heard of it before." 

"Oh, that was _The Borrowers. _You probably haven't. It's a Muggle book. But I grew up reading a lot of those stories, and so I like to sell them in the shop. It's important to be well-rounded!" She grinned. "And I think it's turned out to be a good idea. Lots of young kids love them. They love to come in and talk to me about whichever book they're reading, because I'm one of the only people around who's read them, being Muggle-born and all." 

"I never really knew that, to be honest," Ron told her. "I guess because in school you're... I mean, you were always so hopelessly lost in one spellbook or another, it was all you ever talked about." 

She shrugged. "Well, when I got to Hogwarts, a whole new world opened up, literally! And thousands of new books out there, new stuff to read!" She paused, pushing her dishes away to set her elbows on the table. "But I've always loved those Muggle children's books I used to read. I knew that when I opened the store, I'd have to sell them. And I've always hoped it would help me get my hands on _Anne of Green Gables..._" 

Ron's brow furrowed. "_Anne of Green Gables_?" He asked, looking confused. 

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, don't you remember? I'm sure I've told you about it a hundred times. When I was just a little girl, about six or seven, my mom bought a copy of _Anne of Green Gables _for me, and we used to sit up every night before bed, reading it together. Out of all the books I had, it had always been my favorite," she explained. "After first year at Hogwarts, when we went home for summer holidays, I wanted to read it again, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Then my mom told me it had accidentally gotten mixed up in some of my old toys she had given away, and I haven't been able to get another copy since. Even running the bookstore for the past several years hasn't helped as much as I thought it would. Since it's a Muggle book, no one around here can help, and they stopped printing it in Britain a long while ago. The only way I'd be able to find it again is if I can find a used copy in a secondhand shop somewhere. Obviously, no luck with that so far, either. I don't get out to the Muggle world often enough to look." 

Ron's eyes softened upon hearing the story. Clearly it really meant a lot to her. Vaguely he wondered if the sixteen-year-old Hermione he'd left behind had had the same emotional ties to the book then as she did now. Knowing Hermione and books, he could only surmise that it probably had. 

"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "I'll bet you that one day we'll find it, Hermione. You never know. Maybe I'll have some mission in a country where they do still print it, and they'll have it there." 

She smiled at him then, her eyes sparkling, and her hand around his tightened. He grinned back, uncontrollably. "You ready to go?" He asked, placing his empty tankard on top of the dishes. 

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, got to get back to the store, Ginny's probably waiting on me." 

They got up from the table together, still holding hands, and headed over to the bar to pay. Hermione fished some galleons out of her pocket, handing them graciously to Madame Rosmerta, and then followed Ron out of the tavern. 

Ron slipped his arm around her as the two of them started back up High Street towards the store, smiling to himself as he did so. She relaxed in his grip, letting out a contented sigh. 

"Thanks for lunch today, love. It made me realize how much I really did miss you while you were away. I missed us," Hermione said softly. 

"Oh... so did I," he told her. In his eyes was a faraway gaze, recalling their life at school, that had in actuality been just a few days ago. "You were always on my mind, no matter what I was doing. I don't think I even realized it at first, but it was true. All I wanted to do was just be near you, but I never said a word about it." 

"Yes," she agreed, and it surprised him. "In your letters you would say you loved me, but it seemed as if you were trying to hide how worried you were. But I could read between the lines. I knew you really were telling me that you needed me." 

"Of course I do," Ron uttered, really admitting it to himself for the first time. And to her. It astonished him how the words came so easily. "I just need to work on doing a better job of letting you know it." 

They turned into the bookshop then, standing right in front of the entrance. Ron reached out to open the door, but as he did, Hermione took his hand, pulling him towards her. "You're doing wonderfully so far," she beamed, and pulled herself to her full height, reaching up and kissing him. 

He broke the kiss smoothly after several moments, grinning at her. "I'm so glad to hear that." 

--- 

The dim, silvery moonlight broke through the bedroom window in bars, falling across the high four-poster where Ron lay, trying to fall asleep. Though it was late, past the time when he usually went to bed, he never felt so alert. Hermione was lying next to him the bed, her head pillowed against his shoulder, her body touching his. Never before had they been in such a compromising position. Even though she was fast asleep, Ron couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous. 

He attempted to push the tension out of his mind, but the only thing left to think about didn't help his disposition, the possibility that he might be stuck here in the future, that he might never get back to the proper time. 

It unnerved him to realize that he wasn't as anxious about it as he had been before. Now that the idea was beginning to grow on him, he'd been trying to accept the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, things could work out, despite the circumstances. 

_Am I really wanting to stay? _He mused, astounded by his own thoughts. But the rational side of his brain came back again. _You know you can't, though, no matter what you want. This isn't your time, you're still only sixteen! _

Hermione moved in her sleep at that moment, grabbing Ron around the waist. He closed his eyes and sighed, tired of arguing with himself, and rested his cheek against Hermione's head. 

_If we can't find the fluxweed, it's not as if I'm going to have a choice, is it?_

--- 

Thursday morning had dawned warm and bright. Ron had awaken yet again that morning to discover Hermione had already gotten up and left; her side of the bed was empty. Slowly he got out of the bed and dressed, pocketed his wand, combed his hair, following the morning routine he'd had for the past six years. Or was it sixteen? He was still so confused. 

He couldn't believe how quickly the days were going by. The week would be over soon and still Ron had no idea what he was going to do than he had been since the start. He hadn't heard from Harry yet and Ron still didn't know what was going to happen, whether or not he would be able to get back to sixteen. 

Nonchalantly he went downstairs and walked into the hallway, still fumbling with a few buttons on his collar. As he turned towards the kitchen, he looked up, and abruptly stopped. 

The door of the den was open, and inside the room, sitting at the desk, was Hermione. 

Slowly he took a few steps towards the doorway, and stopped at the threshold, staring at her. She was leaning over the desk, apparently hard at work at something. A number of scrolls were spread out in front of her, and she, quill in hand, was busily scratching away. 

"Hermione...?" 

Hearing her name, she sat up and turned around. "Morning, sunshine!" She grinned impishly. "I wondered when you would be up." 

"Why aren't you at the bookstore?" He asked. 

"Today's Thursday. It's my day off!" She replied. 

Ron walked further into the room, ambling over to the desk where she was seated. "And you got up early anyway?" He said, starting to smile. "Haven't you learned from me? Sleep in!" 

"Well, as tempting as that would be," Hermione replied, "I've been meaning to balance the store's vault for days, and since my morning was finally free, I had the time to do it. You know, the bookkeeping and everything." 

"Oh, right," he nodded. 

She put down her pen and looked up at him. "Are you hungry? I can fix a late breakfast if you want." 

Ron shook his head, and gave her a reassuring smile. "No, that's all right. You're busy! I can find something myself." 

He started out of the room then, across the hall towards the kitchen. But before he could get there, the doorbell rang. 

_Ding, dong!_

Hermione looked up from her bookkeeping as she heard the sound. "Who could that be? On a Thursday morning?" She wondered aloud, and then called to Ron. "Love, can you get that? This paperwork is going to be the death of me." 

He chuckled to himself, but nevertheless called back, "Sure, no problem," and started down the hallway towards the front door. 

The moment before he touch the knob, he already knew who it would be. Swinging the door back, Ron found himself to be right. "Hey, Harry. I've been wondering where you've been." 

Harry stepped inside, giving his friend a smile. "Yeah, you probably have. This week has been going by fast, hasn't it?" 

Ron gave a small laugh. "Probably only to you and me," he replied, closing the front door. 

"Who's here?" Hermione's voice shouted from the den. 

"Just Harry!" Ron called back. 

"Oh, hi, Harry!" 

"Hi, Hermione!" He replied. 

He looked back at Ron, who gave a sort of shrug. "She's working on the books, for the store." Pause. "So... do you want to go into the drawing room, then?" 

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I suppose that would be the best idea," he replied, and followed Ron as he led the way towards the other side of the house. 

Once they were in the drawing room, Ron closed the door and invited Harry to sit. "So, what's the word?" He asked, as soon as his best friend and dropped down into a chair. 

Harry sighed. "Well... not exactly the best news in the world. I stopped in at a couple of places, some other stores around Diagon Alley; I didn't expect to have much luck there, and I didn't. I even made the stop at St. Mungo's. You'd think they probably have cases like this come into the ward every week. But nothing." 

Ron shrugged. "Well, it's a hospital... would they keep things that old around?" 

"I thought maybe they would, but I struck out there." Harry paused. "So then I sent some owls around. I wrote to some of the other Aurors across Europe that I've made friends with, as well as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and, of course - Hogwarts." 

He fell silent after that, and Ron stared at him for several moments before he realized. "... Nothing?" He uttered. 

Harry shook his head disdainfully. "Not a scrap." 

The redhead sunk into a chair after that, the meaning of that statement seeping into him with growing comprehension. "So, in essence, what you're saying," he said slowly, "is there's no chance of getting me back... where I'm supposed to be." 

Harry let out a long, long sigh, giving Ron his answer. "Well... none that I can see, anyway. The fluxweed still could be out there, but... I've tried everything I can think of, and... well..." 

"It's all right, mate. I understand," Ron said, resting a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm stuck here. That's the end of the story. Maybe I should finally let Hermione in on the -" 

"No, wait." Harry cut him off. "We still have time before things get complicated. There's always the chance that _something _could happen in the next few days. There's always the hope." Pause. "Besides, let's not worry Hermione until we have to." 

"But that's the whole idea!" Ron exclaimed, getting to his feet. "Hermione is... was... _always _figuring out problems like this when we were in school! Remember the Polyjuice Potion? Maybe she knows something that we don't -" 

But Harry was shaking his head. "Trust me, Ron. As amazingly intelligent as Hermione is, the Potions masters at the Apothecary know their stuff better than _anyone. _If they tell you there's only one way to do something, there's only one way." 

"Yeah... yeah, I suppose you're right." He sighed again, "But Harry, what am I going to do? Even though the thought of staying here has felt really nice... it just isn't right. I know that. I don't belong here." 

"Something will come up," Harry said affirmatively. "It has to." 

"But you're the one who said not two minutes ago that you couldn't see any chance of getting me back." Ron arched an eyebrow at his friend. 

"That's right, I did. But I didn't say it wasn't _there_. After everything we've been through, all of us, surely it's occurred to you by now..." He smiled an enigmatic smile. "Life's little surprises always have a way of coming round." 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN - **Quick note to you all before you start in on chapter seven... one of the reviewers, Loonie Potter, brought a critial error to my attention! Ron couldn't have confessed his love to Hermione on Valentine's sixth year, because it was April and February had already passed! Whoops! Thanks for letting me know, Loonie, you're quite the detective! ;-) But don't worry, everyone, I repaired the goof-up. The timeline has been restored! LOL. Anyhoo, on with chapter seven! 

--- 

**A Draught in Time:**

**Chapter 7**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

Friday afternoon passed by quickly. Hermione had returned to work at the bookstore, leaving Ron alone in the house for the majority of the day. Still feeling uneasy and restless by the prospect that he might indeed be stuck here, he spent most of it sleeping, or reading the entire year of _Quidditch Weekly_s he'd found in the upstairs study. He grinned as he read the articles about how well the Chudley Cannons were doing this season - it looked as if they had finally achieved a spectacular year, and were on the verge of possibly winning their first Quidditch national cup in decades. 

_Well, if I ever **do **get back to the past, it'll be great knowing there's something in Quidditch to look forward to, _he thought, chuckling, as he tossed the most recent issue aside. He shifted in his chair, and simultaneously stole a glance out the window. Dusk had fallen several hours ago, and it was barely light out now. Ron's brow furrowed at this, wondering now when Hermione would be home. She'd gotten home from the shop at a different time every week, but so far, this was the latest. 

He got up then and left the room, and went downstairs into the kitchen. "She's probably going to be tired after being at the store all day," Ron thought aloud, staring at the cabinets, wondering where to start. "I guess I should try and start supper for her." 

"No, don't do that!" 

Ron jumped and turned around, clutching his heart. Hermione was there, stepping out of the fireplace, wearing a cheerful expression. 

"Bloody hell, you scared me, woman!" He exclaimed, bemused. "Want to give me a warning next time?" 

Her grin widened. "How 'bout this... 'Hi, honey, I'm home!' " She laughed, kissing him hello. 

Ron eagerly returned the kiss, and chuckled as well, inspite of himself. "Anyway, you look happy... something good happen at the store today?" 

"Well, not at the store exactly," Hermione explained. She pulled her bag off her shoulder and started out of the room, Ron right behind her. "I had just closed up for the night and was about ready to head up to the Three Broomsticks to Floo home, but then, right when I passed Fred and George's shop, all the lights popped on! It startled me for a moment, but then, of course, they appeared in the doorway not two seconds later, shouting my name." The two of them walked into the den, and Hermione set her bag down on the desk. 

Ron perked up at the news. "Fred and George are back from their trip?" 

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! So I stopped to talk with them for a little while, and they asked me if we'd like for them to take us and Harry and Ginny out for a big dinner at the Three Broomsticks tonight. Would you like to? It would be wonderful to spend the night out!" 

"Sure, of course!" Ron accepted, smirking. "I'd love to see my annoying brothers." 

"Oh, great!" Hermione replied. "I knew you'd want to. They asked us to meet them there around eight, does that work for you?" 

"Why not?" he said. "It's not as if I'm exactly swamped tonight." 

"And thank goodness for that, I've loved having you around the house this week." Hermione moved forward suddenly, over to Ron, where he was leaning against the back of the armchair. She put her arms around him, saying, "I'm going to hate it when you go back to work next Monday." 

"Me too," he agreed, drawing her closer. "I really love... being home when you come home, being here with you. I really love... you, Hermione." 

She tightened her grasp around him, laying her head against his chest, embracing him. "Oh, I love you, too, Ron. So much! So much that I..." Pause. "Well, I've been wanting to tell you -" 

"Hey, Hermione?" 

She jumped in Ron's arms, hearing the new voice calling her name. Ron, too, was startled, before he recognized the voice. 

"Is that Ginny?" He asked. "Where is she?" 

"Oh, I'll bet she's in the kitchen fire. Fred and George probably just reached her with this evening's dinner plans." Hermione let go of Ron, looking reluctant, somewhat. "It's almost eight now. I'm going to go talk to Ginny for a few minutes. Will you be ready to leave when we're finished?" 

He nodded. "Okay, sure. I'll be here when you get back." 

Hermione hurried off then, to answer her sister-in-law in the fire, leaving Ron alone in the den. He watched her disappear into the hallway, and then walked around to the front of the armchair to sit down in it. 

Ron felt drained of something, but he wasn't sure what. As if something that had been inside of him only moments before was suddenly gone. He slumped against the chair. 

_I just told her I love her. The other me probably has said it a thousand times, but that was the first time **this **me has ever told her that. Told her that I really do love her. _For a moment Ron felt frustrated with himself. _Why couldn't I do that before? When I was still back there, at school? It was so easy now, to say it, and it never was then. Why wasn't it?_

But then he realized the answer. _Because I was so afraid she'd reject me. She was always so serious then, she never seemed like she much cared to be especially close with anyone, any closer than just friends. But all these years later, we're **married. **And Harry said that I did tell her back then. If Hermione and I are where we are now because of where we were then - she named her bookstore what she did because of me! - then she didn't reject me. She must've loved me, too. All that time, she loved me, too..._

Ron let out a long, low breath. "Wow," he said softly, leaning back heavily in the chair. He sat there for several minutes, in stunned silence. "And it took all of this... just to figure that out. It's all simple, it was staring me in the face the whole time. No wonder back then she was so short-tempered with me..." 

His thoughts were so awhirl, he wasn't even aware of anything else around him until he felt someone touch his shoulder. Looking up, he smiled. "Hermione." 

"You ready to go?" 

"Of course," he replied, getting to his feet, stretching his legs. Grinning, he extended his arm to her, which she took, beaming back. 

As they walked out of the room together, side-by-side, a thought suddenly seized Ron. He glanced at her. "Hey... what was it you wanted to tell me, before you went to talk to Gin?" 

"Oh... oh.." She paused for a long moment. "It was... nothing." 

--- 

"Ron! Harry! Jolly good to see you two again!" 

Fred and George seemed to jump out of nowhere, meeting the four of them inside the front entrance of the Three Broomsticks. Ron grinned when he saw them; they still looked the same as ever - still the same Weasley hair, the same goofy smiles plastered on their faces. "We've got the corner table reserved," George said. "Wanna sit?" 

The six of them strode over to the table, and as they took their seats, Ginny said, "What, and it's not jolly good to see Hermione and me?" 

"The ball-and-chain speaks!" Fred joked, as Harry helped lower his wife into her chair. Referring to her pregnancy, "Isn't it time to explode _yet_?" 

"Oh, ha ha ha," Ginny said sarcastically, looking amused nevertheless. "If men were the ones who could get pregnant, I very much doubt you'd be making such jokes." 

"If men were the ones who _could _get pregnant, this would be one scary world indeed," Fred quipped, and a round of laughter encircled the table. 

"What're we having for supper, anyway?" Ginny asked, relaxing in her chair. "Did you two prats order anything yet?" 

"We asked Rosmerta to put on a rack of lamb," Fred replied. "It's a special occasion tonight, we're going to watch our sister expand like a puffapod." 

"Now, come on," Harry said, still smirking, "This _is _my wife you're picking on, so you'll have to answer to _me. _And I vanquished Voldemort, so you know what you're up against." 

Everyone else chuckled, but something about those words struck Ron, and he sat back in astonishment. _Of course... I completely forgot about the war, about him, and... wow..._ "Oh, wow..." 

Someone was elbowing him in the ribs. "Ron!" 

He blinked and suddenly looked up, seeing that it had been Hermione who was trying to get his attention. "What? I'm sorry," he said hastily. "Lost my train of thought." 

George smirked from across the table. "That's our Ickle Ronniekins all right. Always slow on the uptake!" 

Ron rolled his eyes amusedly. "Nice to know some things never change." 

"Anyway..." Ginny interceded, forever the mediator between her brothers. "How was Canada, you two? Any serious competition to be worrying about?" 

George shook his head. "Oh, we're not worried about competition, not when we're on two separate continents, for Merlin's sake. We just went over to see if they had any ideas worth stealing." 

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong," Hermione jumped in, her eyes smiling, "but isn't that what competition _is_?" 

"_No," _Fred disagreed. "We're just... thieves!" 

Everyone burst out in laughter again. "Oh, and we all know that's even better," Harry replied. "Getting rusty in your old age? Creative stick finally come up dry?" 

"Hey, we resent that," George said. "We swapped prototypes, as a matter of fact. We gave the guys over there some of our ingenious, amazing product ideas, and they gave us some of their weak ones to improve on." 

"Not at all modest, are you?" Ginny smirked. 

"Hey, you're more like us than you think," Fred remarked. "All of us kids in the family inherited the infamous Weasley wit. Even Ron over there didn't miss the bar." 

Ron gave his brother a droll look. "Oh yeah? I was full of more sarcasm than any of you. Hermione can vouch for that, can't you?" He turned to her, grinning. 

"Oh, you bet I can. This man's got one-liners coming out his ears. Sometimes I can't even keep up with him," she said to the twins. 

"Well, keep up with this," George said, leaning forward. "Our mates in Canada gave us some masterful insight on one of our latest inventions. This brilliant exploding bubblegum! You can blow the bubbles as big as your head and they'll explode like dynamite, complete with smoke! A little something we felt was missing from Drooble's..." He smirked. 

"Promise me one thing, you two," Ginny cut in, "that you'll wait a couple of years after the baby's born to give it the official initiation into the wondrous world of pranks." 

"Hey, the kid's part Weasley, too, it's only fair we get to him right away!" Fred protested. 

"I don't want him to be blown up, transfigured, or grossed out before he's a year old!" She shot back. "We all know the family history with that one." 

"All too well," Ron put in, cringing at the thought of his teddy bear-turned-spider. 

"Speaking of which," George said, "I know the battle-axes," - Hermione and Ginny shot scornful looks in his direction - "won't want to be revolted, but how 'bout you guys drop by the shop, Harry, Ron, tomorrow afternoon? Check out the newest stuff we brought back from Toronto." 

The two friends glanced at each other, smiling, and turned back to the twins. "Sure, why not?" Harry replied, with a nod from Ron. "Sounds like fun." 

"Hope you kids are hungry!" A new voice suddenly broke into the conversation, cheery and warm. As Ron turned around, he saw the voice belonged to Madame Rosmerta, who was ambling over to their table and carrying steaming platters of roast lamb. "Chow time!" 

The six of them sat up as the barmaid passed the plates around the table, eager to sup on the delicious spread. Ron's plate came to him, and he leaned forward to start, but not before stealing another glance around the table, at all of his family. It was one of the better evenings he'd ever had out, and the very thought made him smile whimsically. 

--- 

It was late, several hours after the evening dinner with Fred, George, Harry, and Ginny had ended, and Ron was laying on the four-poster bed, atop the turned-down covers, watching Hermione ready herself for bed. She stood in front of the mirror, already changed into a pale purple nightgown, brushing her nutmeg hair. 

"Some night out tonight, huh?" She said to him, still looking chipper. "I'm definitely convinced now that your brothers are absolutely never going to change." 

Ron sat up against the pillows, and laughed. "I basically had that figured out by the time I was nine. Fred and George are definitely inimitable, that's for sure." 

She giggled. "I can only imagine how crazy it probably was living with them all those years. But it was probably never boring." 

He shook his head. "Never." 

Hermione replaced the hairbrush atop the dresser, and crossed the room around to her side of the bed, flicking off the lights as she did so. Ron felt his heartbeat quicken as she slid underneath the blankets next to him, much like it had done every night that week. Nevertheless, he wrapped an arm around her as she nestled against his side. 

For several long minutes it was silent, as Ron stared up at the four-poster's canopy. So many thoughts were still running through his mind, but he hadn't decided whether or not to just shrug them off and go to sleep. It seemed rather pointless to do anything else, and yet... 

"Hermione?" He said, gently. 

She was quiet at first, and Ron didn't know if she'd already fallen asleep or not, but a moment later, "Yes?" 

"Tell me something." 

Hermione shifted in his embrace then, moving slightly so that she could look at him. The glow of the moon washed into the room, providing him with just enough light to see into her eyes. "What?" She asked softly. 

"About... about what happened, back at Hogwarts. When you and I first started... dating. When we first told each other that we loved... each other." 

He thought she would seemed puzzled, confused by what he was asking, but she didn't. Instead she smiled, and relaxed back in his grasp. "You're such a romantic." 

"I try." 

She chuckled, warmly. "For as long as I live I'll never forget about those times. My favorite memories of us. When you first told me you loved me, I almost couldn't believe it. I'd been hoping for so long you'd finally tell me. And when I told you that I loved you, too, that first time, you looked so... so happy. Like a kid on Christmas morning." 

"It might as well _have_ been." 

Hermione laid her head against his shoulder. "I know. It was such an amazing day. I still remember every little detail, don't you? You'd been up in your dormitory, taking a nap, when all of a sudden you just bursted downstairs, down to the common room. I'd been doing homework when you came in. And you were babbling so fast I wasn't even sure what you were saying. And then all of a sudden you just came out with it, 'I love you, Hermione. It's taken me years to finally say it, but I do.' " 

Ron fell silent at that, for a moment. Something in her words sounded vaguely familiar, though exactly what it was he couldn't pinpoint. "Some way with words I had, huh?" He said. 

"You did, actually!" She defended him. "I loved what you said. I loved _you._" 

Without thinking, Ron reached up and planted a kiss on her forehead. "And I love you, too." 

Hermione moved her head, pressing her lips against Ron's. He welcomed it, kissing back fervently, tenderly. She curled her arm around him, slowly, and seemed to go almost limp in his embrace. Ron broke the kiss then, feeling her breathing growing slower, more rhythmic, and knew that she was falling asleep. 

"G'night, 'Mione." Ron put his other arm around her, and continued to lay awake for long while after she had drifted off. His thoughts were still awhirl, probably even more so now after his conversation with Hermione. Still feeling alert, Ron was beginning to feel like he had to do something, that a feeling was gnawing at him, and now suddenly it was extremely difficult to ignore. 

He edged to the side of the bed then, carefully removing his arms from around Hermione. She rolled over as he did, and Ron sat up and got out of the bed, reaching for his bathrobe and putting it on. With a poignant glance at her, he left the room, and headed swiftly down the stairs, moving pointedly in the direction of the kitchen. 

It only took a moment to conjure a fire in the fireplace, and the moment after he'd done so, Ron was already reaching into the mounted vase for a bit of Floo powder. He tossed it quickly into the flames, then leaned over and stuck his head in, saying firmly, "Harry and Ginny's house." 

Ron felt his head spinning for several moments, and when the feeling finally stopped, he saw that he was looking into a small, unrecognizable kitchen, illuminated only by the dim glow of a candle, burning in its silver hogscraper. 

"Harry?" Ron called out, hoping his friend might still be up. 

The redhead heard a noise in the direction of the kitchen table, which sounded like a chair's legs scraping across the floor. Only then, after Ron's eyes readjusted to the darkness, did he realize that Harry had been indeed sitting at the kitchen table, something openon the table in front of him. 

Harry blinked and looked around, finally spotting his friend's face in the fireplace. "Ron?" 

"Yeah, it's me," he replied. "Lucky you happened to be in the same room. I didn't want to have to sneak around the house." 

"I'm kind of glad you showed up," Harry said, walking over to the fire and kneeling over the hearth. "I came down for a midnight snack and found the new issue of _Quidditch Weekly _sitting on the table, so I sat down to flip through it. I guess I drifted off." He paused. "But what _are _you doing here? Something couldn't wait until tomorrow?" 

"I was having enough trouble trying to get to sleep, anyway." Ron shrugged. "Listen, can I come through just for a minute? I kind of want to talk to you." 

"Sure," Harry replied, getting to his feet to move away from the flames. 

Ron thrust the rest of his body into the fire, and felt the familiar whirling feeling overtake him as the Floo network transported him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the spinning had stopped. Ron carefully stepped over the grate, and felt his feet touch the kitchen floor of Harry's house. His friend reached over to take his arm, and helped over to the kitchen table, where they both sat down. 

Harry closed his magazine and set it aside, along with the half-empty plate of shepherd's pie which had also been sitting there. Resting his elbows on the table, he asked, "So, what's going on?" 

Ron leaned forward. "Well... I guess I've basically come to the conclusion that I'm not going to be getting out of here anytime soon. The weekend's going to end, I'm still going to be here." Pause. "We tried our best, though. Even though we couldn't come through, you know, with all the owls and the trips to all of the stores and things." 

Harry opened his mouth, looking as if he were about to protest, but instead only sighed. "Yeah," he said, faintly. "I guess so." 

"So, I was kind of wondering, since I'm going to be sticking around for awhile, and since you've got all of those connections..." 

Harry looked up, curious. "Yeah?" 

"Would you mind trying to find one more thing for me?" Ron inquired. "It's a book." 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**

I put a small throwback on "Muggle" sports here. The Chudley Cannons, forever underdogs, finally having their biggest season in years. I'm a big baseball fan. Do the math. ;-) 


	8. Chapter 8

**AN -** Prepare yourself for a big surprise in this chapter! Maybe even more than one! ;-) Oh, and I have over 100 reviews for this fic now? Wahoo! Thanks so so much, gals! ;-) 

--- 

**A Draught in Time:**

**Chapter 8**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

After Ron had left, Harry had gone back upstairs, finally feeling tired enough to go to sleep. When he and Ginny had returned home from the Three Broomsticks earlier that night, his head was still buzzing; he still felt too awake to sleep. Now, though, he'd returned to bed, tired now after his talk with Ron. 

Ginny moved next to him, lying on her side, with one hand draped over her stomach. Harry smiled serenely and reached over and touched her arm, the feel of her gentle breathing seeming to lull him into slumber. Before he knew it, his eyelids had fallen closed, and sleep's whirlpool was taking him away... 

_Harry heard the thundering on the stairs and looked up from talking to Ginny to see that Ron was rushing down the boys' staircase so quickly that Harry was afraid he'd trip and fall on his face. But he didn't; he actually jumped down the last few steps, and stopped to look around the common room. There was a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, something that Harry couldn't identify._

_Hermione, who had been sitting in her usual chair, her huge Arithmancy book spread out on her lap, also looked up, quite surprised by the racket Ron had made coming downstairs. But before she could start in on her usual scolding, Ron marched right up to her. _

_"Hermione - you're there, you're you, you're sitting there!" He yammered._

_She closed her book and got out of her chair, staring at him. "Yes, Ron," she replied confusedly. "It's me, here in the common room... Are you feeling all right?"_

_"You're in the common room!" Ron exclaimed, swinging his arms around her and hugging her. "And **I'm **in the common room! And so's Harry, and Ginny, and --"_

_"Ron, please calm down. You're babbling! Now tell me what's going on."_

_He didn't reply, not right away, as he paused to catch his breath. "You really want to know?"_

_She nodded. "Of course! You're acting so strangely!"_

_"I am, aren't I?" Ron smiled. "And you want to know why, don't you..." He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and grinned wider. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a small, thick book. "Here..." He said softly, holding it out to Hermione._

_She stared at it for a moment, and her eyes seemed to glisten as she did so, looking astounded. "Eight, nine years it's been... how did you... how did you know..."_

_Hermione at last tore her eyes away from the book to look at Ron. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, her eyes filled with bemusement._

_But Ron only shrugged, smiling at her unspoken question. "I just... I love you, Hermione. I really, really... love you..."_

Harry's eyes snapped open, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Sunlight broke into the room quite suddenly, as the bedroom curtains were opened. "Morning already?" He said, sitting up in wonder. The dream was still so fresh in his mind, it felt as if it had actually happened, as if he'd really lived it. 

"I know, comes fast, doesn't it?" 

Harry looked up, and saw his wife standing at the bedroom windows, pulling back the curtains. He blinked his eyes, attempting to adjust them to the light. "Gin, you wouldn't believe this dream I had." 

Ginny walked over to the bed, wrapping her dressing gown a little closer around her body. "Oh? What about?" 

"I'm not sure," he said. "I mean, I know, but it was weird. Like déjà vu." 

She picked up Harry's glasses off the nightstand and handed them to him. He took them from her and put them on. "It wasn't a nightmare, was it? Like those ones you... used to have?" 

Realizing what she was talking about, he shook his head vehemently. "No, no, Gin. Nothing like that. You don't have to worry." He gave her a smile and took her hand. "It was... happy. Ron and Hermione were there. We were all back at Hogwarts." 

"Quaint." Ginny smiled back, watching as her husband climbed out of bed. 

"Are you going into the bookshop today?" He asked, putting his arms around her. 

"Yes, but Hermione's going to be there, so don't worry." 

"I'll probably worry anyway. You're due next week and I've got one of my feelings," Harry replied, placing his hand on Ginny's pregnant stomach. 

"You know it's usually women who get those," she told him, smirking, putting her hand on his. "I'll be fine, love. We're not going in until around noon. You and Ron are dropping in at Fred and George's store today, so we'll be right across the street from each other. There's no need to be afraid, because you'll be right there." 

"Well, I don't know, I might not be there right away, I've got some errands to run," he said. "Ron asked me to pick up something for him... on the way." 

Ginny shook her head, almost in a rueful way. "Harry, I will be perfectly fine. Even if something _does _happen, Hermione will be there. And Fred and George will be just across the road, and Ron will probably be there, too. So really you have nothing to get anxious about, because it's not as if I'll be alone." 

"True, but you can't blame me, after what we've already been through." 

Ginny just chuckled. "I suppose I'd expect nothing less from the Boy Who Lived Again." 

--- 

Mid-afternoon. It would be dusk in several hours, and the shopping crowds were already starting to swell on High Street. Sitting in Fred and George's shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Ron glanced at the window across the way, into Hermione's bookstore. Even from the distance, he could still see into the shop, the throngs of people in the aisles. Another busy evening, it looked. 

Ron turned to look around his brothers' store. It was amazing, and yet oddly whimsical, what they'd done with it. There were tables, aisles, shelves, and racks of trinkets and novelties, some of which he had a hard time figuring out what they were. Bags of tricks and pranks lined the walls and hung haphazardly in the display window. Everything in the store - from the paint job, to the carpet, to the products - was coated in bright, lurid colors. 

"Harry still not here yet, mate?" George asked, walking in from the back room of the shop. 

"Well, I asked him to get something for me, so he's probably just running late," Ron replied, sliding off the stool and getting to his feet. "He might've decided to Floo, I can go check down at the Three Broomsticks..." 

"Or he just Apparated, like he always does." 

Ron blinked and looked up, seeing Harry standing just inside the store entrance. "I've been busy with some errands, Apparating from place to place all day, so I figured to Floo would just take longer," he said, looking cheerful. "Hey, George. Fred in the back?" 

"Thought you'd never get here!" George said brightly. "Yeah, he's going through the stuff we brought back from Canada. Wanna come on back, you two?" 

"Sure!" Harry replied, falling into step beside Ron as they followed George towards the shop's storage room. Quietly to the redhead, "I found it." 

"You did?" Ron exclaimed. "How?" 

The jet-haired man withdrew the book from his pocket and passed it over to Ron, who took it quickly. "It wasn't easy," he replied. "I had to Apparate all the way to Maine just to find a copy, but I did it." 

"Maine?" Ron said, looking surprised. "You mean, all the way over in America? Oh, you didn't have to do that." 

"I wanted to, though," Harry said. "And I have an Auror pal there who gave me a hand, too." Pause. "It's the least I could do, mate." 

"Thanks, Harry. This really means a lot." Ron grinned. 

He stashed the book in the pocket of his cloak, just as George led them into the large back room area, which was just as brightly colored as the front of the store, though slightly more cluttered. Vials of liquid, brass scales, cauldrons, and other assorted equipment lay spread across several tables. 

The three of them walked over to where Fred was sitting, over one of the tables, and sifting through several containers of potion ingredients. He looked up and grinned as they approached. "Powdered unicorn horn," he said, holding up a bottle and giving it a wave from emphasis. "I have to hand it to the Canadian lads, they do know their stuff. You won't believe what these tiny glittery specks are going to do for our fake wands. And the lacewings, for our magically appearing vomit!" He shuffled through the containers again, as Ron and Harry exchanged amused looks - "These are going to be fantastic. Twice as much vomit!" 

"Quick question, though," Ron cut in, smirking, "Is that a _good _thing?" 

"You can never go wrong with vomit!" Fred replied happily. "But wait - that's not even the best news!" He jumped up and started across the other side of the room, his brothers and Harry following. Fred lead them over to a sturdy old bookcase, which was unusually devoid of books. Instead it was filled with jars and vials of various magical herbs and other things. Some of them looked as if they had been sitting there for quite a while. 

"Fred and I have a complete one-up on everyone else," George explained. "Time has allowed us to make a really wicked discovery. Some ingredients - not all - have really interesting effects in our experiments after they've aged!" 

Ron blinked. "Aged?" 

"Indeed!" Fred replied. "At least, in the invention in some of our pranks. We're not sure about anything else. At first we just thought it was the norm, you know, because we mix such crazy stuff together? But we mentioned it to our mates in Canada and they've been trying it out as well, and it really works!" He paused to catch his breath, then forged on ahead. "You see, awhile ago me and George were going through some old supplies, because we're so disorganized, and we found some old containers of potions ingredients we completely forgot we had! They must've been _years _old -" 

"Wait, Fred, George..." Harry interrupted, an intense look on his face. "You've been collecting old herbs and things - _aging _them?" 

"Yeah!" George exclaimed, but then his face fell slightly. "Oh, no, if we broke another one of those Ministry guidelines, don't rag us about it. We weren't even sure that that was the cause for all the wonky goings-on with our inventions until we checked with the Toronto blokes -" 

"No, that's not it!" Harry replied, shooting a poignant glance at Ron - who was now beginning to understand what all this talk was leading up to. "Just... how old are some of the ingredients you have?" 

The twins seemed to pep up again at Harry's curiosity. "Well, after we swapped with the Canadian jokesters, we got some ingredients that are up to ten, twelve years old! Really potent stuff!" 

"You bet it is!" Ron blurted, feeling the nerves welling up inside of him. He glanced anxiously at Harry; there was only one question left to ask... 

The twins looked pleased. "Why? Either of you interested?" George asked. 

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Harry said, his eyes bright. "While you were over there, you didn't happen to exchange for any fluxweed, did you? Maybe around, say, ten years old?" 

Fred's eyebrows went up, and he stepped closer to the bookcase, quickly shuffling through the newest bunch of jars on the shelf. It seemed to take him forever to go through them all, but when Fred stepped back again, he had something in his hands... 

"You're in luck!" He exclaimed, holding a blue canister out to Harry. "Ten-year-old fluxweed right there! The Toronto blokes really love the stuff, they said we should have a go at it in our products." Fred suddenly looked confused. "I didn't know you were in the market for something so specific, though. I mean, a few weeks ago _George and I_ didn't even know about it." 

Harry took the jar. "Oh, well, it's something my... my Auror chieftain has been after for awhile. It's something for our new assignments next week." He gave a short laugh, and pocketed the fluxweed. "Er, you two? Sorry that we have to shove off so soon, but... Ron and I have something we need to take care of..." 

The twins looked up. "That's no problem, actually," George said. "All this talk about the new stuff has got Fred and I really corking to experiment with it, and with reopening the shop on Monday, we really need to get busy!" 

"Okay, well, best have at it!" Harry said hastily, grabbing Ron's arm as they edged towards the door. "We'll see you later!" 

The two of them hurriedly ambled out of the shop, and it wasn't until they were outside that Ron spoke. "All this time, the answer was with Fred and George! Those crazy blokes, they actually came in handy." 

"You know what this means, of course," Harry replied. "You'll be able to get back to your time. All we have to do is brew the potion, and..." 

"Everything will be fine." Ron's breath went out with a _swoosh, _as the realization hit him for the first time. 

--- 

A mere half-an-hour later, Harry and Ron were busy at work in the kitchen of Ron and Hermione's house, a cauldron sitting in the basin with a blueball flame wafting beneath it. A battered copy of the book _Common Remedies and Antidotes Through Potion-Making _was laying on the counter beside the cauldron, open to the page that listed the ingredients for the belladonna antidote. 

"Will we have enough time to finish this before Hermione gets home?" Harry inquired. "If she comes home while we're still messing about the kitchen, she's going to wonder what we're doing." 

"I'm not sure," Ron replied, giving the cauldron's contents a quick stir. "She told me she'd be home around seven. When we left Fred and George's shop, it was still fairly busy over at the bookstore. Hopefully we'll have time. And if not, we can move it to the guest bathroom upstairs." 

"I don't think we'll have any problems, then." Harry picked up a jar and emptied a portion of its contents into a measuring cup. "I'm putting in the asphodel now, give it another stir once I do." 

Ron picked up his wand as Harry poured the asphodel into the potion, sticking it into the cauldron and stirring it swiftly. After that, the two stood back. 

"It has to simmer for two hours now, according to the book," Harry said. "There's nothing left to do until then, except add the fluxweed, of course." He looked at his friend. "How are you feeling? I mean, are you doing OK? Because this all happening so quickly." 

Ron merely shrugged. "The quicker the better, I suppose." 

Harry leaned against the counter, his head tilted in thought. "You don't seem... very relieved about finally being able to get back." 

The redhead shrugged again, crossing the room and sitting down at the kitchen table. "Well, I'm glad I'll be able to go back where I should be, but..." 

"What?" 

"I'm going to miss this. I really am." Ron plunked his elbow on the tabletop, gathering his chin in his hand. "I mean, just hours ago I was convinced I'd be stuck here forever. I guess... I guess I was actually warming up to the idea. Staying here didn't feel like such a bad idea. I mean, I'm married... to the only woman I've ever seriously cared about, ever truly loved. And my best friend, he's my sister's husband... the very bloke I would've picked out for her, and probably did." 

Harry smiled. 

"It's just... I have a really nice life here," Ron went on. "It's going to be hard going back to sixteen... where the future's still a scary thing. Where Hermione doesn't even know that I..." 

Harry stepped over to the kitchen table, laying a friendly hand on the redhead's shoulder. "That's why you've got to tell her," he said. "I'd hate for you to miss out on the beginning, those first few years when you and Hermione were first courting. It's a special time in every relationship." Pause. "As soon as you get back, you should let her know. It was just like in my..." 

But he didn't finish. Harry's voice drifted off, and he stood back for a moment, staring out into space. A perplexed look creased his face, but it soon gave way to something else as a comprehension seemed to dawn on him. 

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, confused. "Is something wrong?" 

The jet-haired man gave a small nod. "No, on the contrary..." 

Ron, still addled, opened his mouth to ask him what he meant, but before he could, a sharp, tapping noise filled the room, shattering both of their thoughts. 

"What is that?" Harry inquired, glancing around. 

But a movement at the kitchen window caught Ron's eye, and, silently he got out of his chair and walked over to open it. Perched on the windowsill was a tawny owl, holding out his leg to which a scroll of parchment was attached. Ron carefully removed it. 

"A letter?" Harry walked over to his friend's side, to see what was in the note. 

The handwriting was hasty and quick, and slightly blotted in some places, but Ron was still able to make out the words. 

_Ron - _

Ginny's water broke as we were closing up the store; we just arrived at the hospital with Fred and George. Please get here as soon as you can. I assume Harry's with you so for Merlin's sake tell him what's happened. Ginny's been asking for him. 

Hermione xx 

Harry, who had been standing next to Ron reading the letter, suddenly snapped alert. "I knew it! I _told _Ginny I had a feeling today could be it, and... and... we really need to get to the hospital. _Now!_" 

"Of course," Ron agreed, rushing over the fireplace to conjure a fire. "We can wait to finish the potion later." 

Harry poked his hand into the vase of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the flames the moment after the redhead had lit them. "Sorry about this, mate." 

"What're you apologizing for?" The redhead replied, suddenly grinning. "You and Ginny are about to have a baby, for heaven's sake!" 

Harry beamed back and stepped quickly into the fire, shouted out his destination, and with a flurry, he was gone. Ron then took some powder for himself and tossed it in, and, with one last, quick look at the cauldron in the sink, he hopped into the green flames, and called out, "St. Mungo's!" 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN -** Not that anyone probably cares, but this chapter - chapter nine - was my favorite of all the chapters in this fic to write. The interactions between the characters here is some of the more poignant dialogue I've written. That being said, I think you'll really enjoy it. ;-) 

--- 

**A Draught in Time:**

**Chapter 9**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

Moments after arriving, Harry and Ron found themselves stepping over the fireplace grate into the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital. It being nighttime, the room wasn't nearly as crowded as usual, nor the line at the inquires desk as long. The two of them quickly asked the young witch at the desk what room Ginny Potter was in, and after quick look in her register, informed them that she was in room twenty-two, second floor, they rushed off towards the stairs. 

When they finally reached the room, Ginny was there, sitting up in her bed, looking quite tired. Her hair was messy and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Sitting in the chair next to her, looking rather frazzled, was Hermione. 

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, jumping forward, fusing himself to her bedside. "How are you doing, love?" 

She looked up at him, extremely relieved to see him. "Oh, I'm all right," she said, smiling as he took her hand. "The pains are getting closer, though. I don't think it'll be too much longer, now." 

Ron moved closer towards his sister, joining Hermione next to the bed, watching as Ginny and Harry conversed. 

"I told you I had a feeling about today, didn't I?" He smiled, sitting down on the edge of her mattress. 

"Yes, you did." Ginny laughed. "I really need to start listening to you more, for Merlin's sake. You sure do know what you're talking about." 

Ron gave Hermione a nudge, and asked quietly, "Where're Fred and George?" 

"They mentioned going up to the tea room," she replied, and then stood up, turning to Harry and Ginny. "Where Ron and I should be heading up now! After all, your parents are going to be here any minute, Gin, and soon you're going to be ready to deliver!" 

"Okay," she replied, her eyes smiling. "Thanks for getting me here, Hermione." 

"Of course! You take care, okay? And we'll see you afterwards," She said cheerfully, then took Ron's hand, leading him out of the room. 

They walked down the hall side-by-side, towards the stairs. "I hope she'll be all right," Ron uttered, hoping the exit door for Hermione, and followed her though, starting up to the fifth floor together. 

"Oh, she will be. Gin's strong, she won't have any problems," Hermione said affirmatively. "I just hope Harry doesn't fall all apart." 

They both laughed. "Yeah," he agreed, "He's probably as jumpy as a peppermint toad right now." 

"I'll bet your mum and dad are just as bad, though," she replied, hefting up the steps. "You know how bad your mum worries. She's probably nagging Ginny's ear off now, probably actually even telling her how to give birth." 

Ron followed Hermione up the next flight. "I wouldn't be surprised, honestly," he chuckled. "Mum means well, but... she can never leave well enough alone." 

"At least it beats the alternative," she said with a shrug. 

They turned the corner together, to start up the next set of stairs, but instead found that they had reached the fifth floor. Ron opened the tea room door, and they both went in, finding themselves in a wide, high-ceiling room, full of cozy chintz armchairs and tables. They hadn't been standing in the doorway for very long before they spotted Fred and George, who were sitting at a table, waving them over. 

"Sit down, have a cup," Fred said pleasantly as the couple approached. "It's been a trying day, hasn't it?" 

Hermione let out a long breath and sank down into one of the chairs. "Stars, yes. When I got up this morning, I never thought we'd be here." 

Ron followed suit. "No kidding," he agreed. 

George passed the teapot and Hermione took it, filling her cup. "How's Gin doing?" 

"Oh, she's doing fine, seems pretty calm," she replied. "Harry's with her now, but I'm sure he's anything but calm right now." 

George grinned. "Hmm, probably not." 

"But seeing as we're on the subject," Fred piped up, withdrawing a piece of parchment and a quill from his pocket, "Anyone want in on the baby pool? I've got boy, six pounds, at midnight." 

Fred reached into his pocket for some galleons. "Yeah, I'll take boy at eight pounds, at twelve forty-five." 

"You two are horrible." Hermione rolled her eyes amusedly. "If Ginny knew you were betting on her baby, she'd deck you." Pause. "But I think you're both wrong. It's going to be a six-pound girl at one-thirty AM." 

"Care to make a wager on that one?" Fred grinned. 

"I'm _not_ betting!" 

"Fine, fine... have it your way..." He replied, then turned to his brother. "Ron, old boy! Put down some gold and have a guess!" 

He shook his head and chuckled. "No, that's all right. Why don't we just hope Gin's baby is healthy, eh?" 

"Blimey, when did you turn into such a grown-up?" George smirked. 

Glancing sideways at Hermione, Ron said, in a very equivocal way, "Oh, I dunno. 'Bout a week ago?" 

--- 

Several hours had passed, and still there had been no word on Ginny and Harry's baby. Fred and George, still tired from their Canada trip, decided to head home, with a promise from Hermione that she would owl the minute anything happened. Hermione, obviously, had insisted on staying, refusing to leave until Ginny had given birth. And Ron, of course, stayed with her. They'd left the tea room though, and decided to go back downstairs to the reception ward where they could be closer to Ginny. 

The room wasn't extremely comfortable, but Ron was managing to tough it out. He found an abandoned copy of _Quidditch Weekly _on one of the tables, and was sitting silently in one of the waiting room chairs, flipping through it. Hermione sat next to him, her head on his shoulder, warm and quiet. So much that he thought she was asleep, and it startled him when she suddenly spoke. 

"Ron?" 

"Er... yes?" 

"How much longer do you think it will be?" She inquired. 

"Oh, I don't know," he replied softly, and lowered his magazine. "If you're tired, maybe we should just go on home and wait." 

"We - we can't -" Hermione said, stifling a yawn, "I promised Fred and George we'd give them the news when Ginny delivers." 

Ron set _Quidditch Weekly _aside and wrapped an arm around her, stroking her long brown hair. "Are you sure?" 

She nestled closer to him. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm going to take the day off tomorrow. And there's nothing you need to be home for right away, is there?" 

Momentarily Ron's mind flashed to the cauldron that was still simmering at home in the kitchen sink, and the fluxweed still in its jar on the counter. "Well, nothing that can't wait." 

Hermione glanced at him, as if contemplating something. "Ron... I need to tell you something. It _is_ something that can't wait." 

He sat up a little straighter. "What is it?" 

"It's just... I've been trying to tell you ever since your holidays started, because I knew we'd have a lot of time alone together..." 

"Hermione, Hermione," Ron grabbed onto her shoulders. "You're a horrible bush beater! Just tell me what it is." 

"It's just... Ron... I - I'm pregnant." 

He suddenly couldn't breathe. "Wh-what?" 

She turned in her chair, to face him. "I wasn't sure if I was at first, but... I saw the Healer about a week before you come home for your vacation. And... I am, I'm about two months along." Hermione reached for his hand. "Do you remember, back at the beginning of summer, when you came home from an assignment for that short weekend? Well..." 

Ron could only stare at her. His mouth kept opening, but no words would come out. 

"I know we had a big discussion about it a few months ago, you know, about waiting... But some things you just can't plan, you know?" She went on, her voice shaky. "I really hope you're not upset, because I love you so much, and I... I've wanted to be pregnant for a long time now..." 

Abruptly Ron leaned forward and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Hermione, just... forget what we talked about!" _Whatever it had been, _he thought. "I love you! If this is really what you wanted all along, you shouldn't have been afraid to tell me!" 

"I know, but I just -" 

"No," he interrupted, looking at her in the eyes. "You and me, Hermione, how long have we been friends? Since forever! As long as we've known each other! And truth be told, we've probably been in love with each other just as long." 

She smiled knowingly. "Yeah..." 

"So why should you be afraid to tell me anything important?" He continued. "Do you think I'll hate you, or reject you in some way? I could never do that, and I never will. We've been too close for ages for something like that to ever come between what we have..." 

_Stars, if I could hear myself now, _he suddenly thought. _Just a few days ago when she and I were still arguing over Snape's potion, with me standing there, too chicken to tell her how I really felt..._

She wiped at her eyes. "So, does this mean you're happy that we're pregnant?" 

He let out a long breath, attempting to calm his hammering heart, and embraced her again. "Of course... of course it does." 

"Ron and Hermione Weasley?" 

Ron turned around quickly, though his hands were still holding onto Hermione. A Healer in lime green robes was standing there, a radiant look on her face. 

"Yes?" He asked. 

"Your sister Ginny gave birth to a beautiful little girl." The mediwitch smiled. 

Hermione got to her feet. "Really? She did? How is she feeling?" 

"Yes," the Healer replied. "Mother and daughter are both doing fine." 

"And Harry?" Ron quipped, grinning. 

"Oh, I think he's finally calmed down now." 

He and Hermione exchanged smiles. "Can we go see her now?" She asked the mediwitch. 

"Of course. They're both asking for you two. Follow me." 

Ron got to his feet and fell into step next to Hermione, and they walked up the corridor together along with the Healer. She led them upstairs to the second floor, and back to ward twenty-two, where they found Ginny, laying serenely in her bed, with Harry sitting the chair next to her, holding her hand. 

"Hey, you two..." Hermione said gently, as they stepped inside. "How're you doing, Gin?" 

She lifted her head to look at her brother and sister-in-law, and managed a grin for them. "Not bad... I'm just kind of tired." 

"I'll bet you are," Hermione replied, sitting down in the other chair. Ron moved to stand next to her. 

"She did great, she brought our daughter into the world..." Harry said, a dreamy tone in his voice as he stared lovingly at his wife. 

"Well, Harry, I couldn't've really done it alone, could I?" She smiled at him. 

"Are they going to bring the baby in?" Ron inquired. 

"Yeah, they should be in a few minutes," Harry piped up. "I asked the mediwitch if she would. We kind of want to show her off." 

Suddenly Ron felt Hermione tugging at his hand, an expectant look in her eyes. Understanding, he nodded and grinned, giving her a small nudge of encouragement. 

"Gin... I told him." 

Ginny turned quickly and abruptly to look at Hermione. "You did?" She asked, giving Hermione's hand a supportive squeeze. 

"Yes, I did. If you'd like me to make the official announcement... you're going to see me in this bed next. I'm pregnant." 

"Hermione, that's wonderful!" Harry said. "Only..." He shot a piercing, furtive look at Ron, which, luckily, the women didn't notice. 

The redhead looked taken aback for a moment, but then he mouthed _two months_ at his friend, and Harry seemed to relax after that. 

"You're going to get plenty of practice during the next few months, Hermione," Ginny told her, beaming. "In fact, why don't we all start now?" 

Ron and Hermione turned around, to see the same mediwitch that had greeted them in the reception ward now carrying Ginny and Harry's baby daughter, bundled in a pink blanket, into the room. She stepped over to Ginny's bedside, and carefully lowered the child into her mother's arms. 

Ginny sat up so that everyone could see the baby, warm and wriggly, laying in her arms. Harry got out of his chair and sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking down at the baby. Ginny gently handed her over to Harry, who took her, cradling the baby close to him. He laughed a moment later and said, "Not even a day old, and look. She's already cursed with the same crazy hair as her dad." 

Ron leaned closer and laughed, too, seeing the unruly patch of dark hair on the infant's head. 

"Hey, Ron," Harry started to say, "Do you want to hold her?" 

He glanced at Hermione, who smiled and gave him a nudge. He stepped forward and held out his arms, allowing Harry to lay the newborn in them. Ron nestled the baby tenderly, moving close to Hermione so that she could see, too. "Can you believe how little and warm she is?" 

When Ron looked up at her, he noticed that she was nearly on the verge of tears, she looked so full of joy. Hermione held her pinky to the baby, who grasped it momentarily with her tiny fingers. 

She let out a contented sigh. "I can't wait for this." 

--- 

It was nearly three in the morning and Ron and Harry were strolling together up the second-floor hallway of St. Mungo's, passing Ginny's room every turn. Hermione was still inside with her, the two of them chatting together. Ron had stepped out of the room a little while ago, to get some air, and was surprised to see Harry come out of the room and join him a few minutes afterward. 

"So, she told you she's pregnant," Harry mused, breaking the silence in the corridor and in between them. 

"Yeah," Ron replied, looking at his feet. "I got her pregnant and I wasn't even there, so to speak." They both chuckled. 

"Did it shock you?" 

He shrugged. "Pretty much. But what do you expect?" 

"Truthfully?" Harry inquired. "Nothing less. You'll probably find, that when you actually are this age, the announcement will probably surprise you just the same way. That's how it was for me when Ginny told me nine months ago. I felt the same sort of shock as I did about things when I was a teenager. Sometimes I think that part of you never really changes." 

Ron stopped, glancing up at his friend. "Why - why are you telling me this?" 

Harry lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "Oh, I don't know. Just because. I thought it might help you." 

"With what?" 

Harry returned his friend's stare. "Those internal thoughts are still nagging at you. Between wanting to stay and knowing you have to go. Am I right?" 

Ron's gaze dropped down to his shoes again. "...Yeah, I guess so," he replied quietly. "I mean, Hermione and I are going to be going home in a few, and... the potion's still in the kitchen sink, waiting on me." Pause. "Something about it doesn't feel right, though. The thought of me just - leaving her." 

"But you're not." Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "Look... there's something I should let you know about. The other night, after you dropped in on me late, I had this dream. It felt so real, like dreams usually do, but it was different. After I woke up, it felt as if it had actually happened, although I have no memory of living it. And tonight, before we came here to the hospital, it came to me." 

"What did?" Ron asked, confused. 

"The dream. You see, it came to me why it felt the way it did. Because it _did _really happen! When I was telling you about how you should tell Hermione how you feel about her as soon as you got back to your time, the dream just suddenly made so much sense. You see, you took my advice. You got back, and you told her." 

"How can you be so sure?" The redhead blurted. "That it really happened? It was just a dream!" 

"Because I do!" Harry said firmly. "Don't you see? It all makes sense. You were _supposed _to come forward. Then you were supposed to go back again. I mean, you _are_ supposed to go back. That's the only way any of this can be explained." 

Ron blinked, as the realization flooded into him. Nothing Harry was saying made any sense, but somehow, in a way he couldn't really explain... it did. 

He wasn't sure how to reply, or if there was any reply to give at all, while he was still pondering everything Harry had told him. He turned around then, towards Ginny's room, and as he did, Hermione popped out of the doorway. 

"Hey, Harry," she called softly. "Ginny's asking for you. She's looking kind of tired, I think she's going to be falling asleep soon. She's had quite a day." Hermione simpered. 

"She definitely has," he replied, returning her beam. 

"You might as well go ahead. I'm pretty tired, and I know Ginny needs her rest, so I think I'm going to drag Ron home now," she said, and let out a yawn. 

Harry cast a furtive glance at Ron, but it was so quick the redhead wasn't sure if he'd seen it. He was already looking back at Hermione. "And you need your rest, too. You're going to be a mother in seven more months." 

Despite her drowsiness, a grin broke out over Hermione's face. "Right you are, Harry. Ron," she turned to him, "you ready to go?" 

"Sure," he replied, moving over to put his arm around her. To Harry, "Tell Ginny we'll talk to her soon, and... see you later, Harry." 

The jet-haired man met eyes with his friend for a long moment, and then finally said, "Yeah, definitely. See you... really soon." 

--- 

Hermione had fallen asleep almost immediately after they'd gone to bed, after arriving home from the hospital, but Ron - of course - still felt much to alert to fall asleep. And there was also a small matter down in the kitchen to be taking care of, he was all too aware of. 

Slowly he climbed out of bed, and carefully draped the bedclothes back over Hermione, kissing her gently on the forehead. After the talk with Harry at the hospital, he no longer felt torn about what he had to do. Strangely he felt an odd sort of tranquillity. "See you soon, Hermione," he told her softly, and crossed the bedroom, slipping out the door and heading quickly downstairs. 

In the darkness he walked through the front room, into the hallway, and then pushed open the kitchen door. Still sitting in the sink, with the blueball flames still licking its bottom, was the cauldron. Inside, the pale blue potion was still brewing, with an occasion bubble of heat bobbing to the surface. Ron let out a breath, and reached over for the fluxweed jar. Cramming his fingers under the seam, he pried the lid loose, and then grabbed the one-cup-amount measuring cup. 

Carefully he emptied some of the jar's contents into the cup, shaking and rotating it gently to make sure he had just the precise amount. Finally the cup was full, and he swiftly dumped the fluxweed into the cauldron. The liquid hissed as the magical herb began its dissolve into the potion. 

Ron replaced the lid on the jar and set it back to the counter. He didn't know how long he would have to wait before the fluxweed took effect. When it had happened the first time, almost immediately afterward he'd accidentally gulped it down. But now that he could actually wait, Ron had no idea what he was waiting for. 

Pulling his wand out of his pocket, Ron reached inside the cauldron to give the contents a brief stir. But as he put his hand inside, he noticed that the fluxweed was already turning the potion into an even darker blue. As Ron swirled his wand through the liquid, the whole of it assimilated to the royal blue color. Hastily he withdrew the bit of wood, tossing it to the kitchen counter, replacing it in his hand with a glass tumbler. 

His heart started to beat faster from his nervousness as Ron dipped the drinking glass into the potion. Shaking off the excess, he pulled it out of the cauldron, and raised it to his lips. 

"Well..." He said anxiously, "Bottoms up." 

Ron placed the tumbler to his mouth, tilted his head back, and drained the contents. 

--- 

**To Be Continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN -** Alert! Believe it or not, this is the final chapter. Such a surreal feeling when the end of a fic finally comes, huh? Well, I hope you've enjoyed reading it just as much as I have writing it! 

--- 

**A Draught In Time:**

**Chapter 10**

-dutchtulips- 

--- 

It was a thick fog, a haze, that seemed to surround him. Ron still felt drowsy, weak, as he lay in his bed with his eyes closed, wanting nothing else than to just sleep some more. He rolled over on his bed, and his arm swung out as he did, knocking against the nightstand. 

"Ouch!" He cried out, and bolted upright. "Bugger..." He grumbled, putting his injured knuckles into his mouth. As he nursed his sore hand, Ron glanced around the room, and his fingers promptly dropped out of his mouth. 

The other four beds of his roommates - Harry, Dean, Neville, and Seamus - all encircled the room. The silver water jug sat underneath the large, tall dormer window, and on the other side of the room sat the table, haphazardly scattered with spellbooks, quills, brass scales, and other sundries. Tucked away in one corner, Ron could see two glass tumblers sitting side-by-side, one filled with a dark blue liquid and the other filled with clear, almost like water. 

The redhead hurriedly jumped out of bed, rushed over to the table, and picked them up. As he did, he noticed a roll of parchment that had been sitting next to them, and put down the glasses to pick it up. He unrolled the paper, and a growing realization welled up inside of him as he read the words. They were his notes he'd taken in Snape's class, for the belladonna antidote. 

The parchment sprang back into a roll as the notes fell from his fingers, dropping softly to and rolling off of the tabletop. But Ron didn't stop to pick it back up; he was already out the dormitory door, racing for the stairs. 

Once he reached the top landing, he paused for a moment to look down at the common room. It all felt so surreal. He closed his eyes for a minute, but when he opened them, the sight was still the same. Fred and George's fluxweed had done the trick. It had brought him back. 

Nerves flooding into him, Ron took off down the staircase, causing somewhat of a din as he thundered down to the common room. Once his feet touched the floor he looked up, only to see that everyone was looking right back at him. Harry and Ginny, sitting together on the sofa, and Hermione, in her favorite chair, a book spread in her lap. _Hermione..._

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, springing over to where she was sitting. "You're... you're there! You're you! You're... sitting there!" 

Confused, she closed her Arithmancy book, set it aside, and stood up. "Yes, Ron, it's me, here in the common room." Her expression melted to concern. "Are you all right?" 

For a moment all he could do was stare at her. There she was, standing there, the same old uptight Hermione. But he smiled. That was going to change soon enough, knowing what he knew now. "It's just... You're in the common room!" Ron exclaimed, swinging his arms around her and hugging her. "And _I'm_ in the common room! And so's Harry, and Ginny, and --" But his voice sort of drifted off, as he held her close to him. In many ways, she still felt exactly the same. 

Hermione wriggled herself loose, just slightly, to look at him. "Ron, please calm down. You're babbling! Now tell me what's going on." 

He smiled at her and she smiled back, although he could tell she still looked rather confused. By what he was saying, by how he was acting, by the way he was holding her... 

"You really want to know?" 

She nodded. "Of course! You're acting so strangely!" 

Ron simpered at her. "I know!" He exclaimed, and then his pulse started to race as he knew what was coming next, what he was going to say, what he _had _to say. Everyone else in the common room seemed to disappear then. "You want to know why, don't you..." He started to reach for her hand, but as he did so, his wrist knocked against something in the pocket of his robes. A puzzled look crossed his face for a moment, wondering what he was. Looking down in his pocket, Ron could scarcely believe it. _The book! I still have it! But how?_

The question in his head dissipated though, as he realized what it meant. Grinning wider, he reached into his pocket and withdrew it. "Here... this is for you," Ron said softly, holding the book out to her. 

_Anne of Green Gables._

Hermione stared at the book, the title and the picture on the front cover, almost frozen. But her eyes were glittering, from her shock, as well as from the moisture gathering in her eyes. She finally took the book, gripped it tightly, turning it over in her hands several times, astonished. "Eight, nine years it's been... how did you... how did you know..." She whispered, bewildered. 

She looked up at him finally, no longer looking confused or befuddled; insurmountable joy was now filling her smile, her eyes. Something else, too, something that Ron was able to recognize inspite of himself. Hermione actually looked hopeful, as if there were something specific she was waiting for, wanting from him... 

... And he was only too happy to deliver. 

"I just... I love you, Hermione," he told her, and with that admission it felt as if a large weight had been removed from his shoulders, "I really, really... love you..." 

A lone tear dropped from her eye, but Hermione was grinning, smiling more brightly than Ron could ever remember seeing on her face. "You do?" 

"Yeah," he said calmly, feeling enchanted. "I really do." 

"I can't believe you... I can't believe it took you so long!" She suddenly exclaimed, nearly laughing at her own outburst. "I love you, too!" 

Ron grinned and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder, where he could see Harry and Ginny, still sitting on the sofa, looking amazed yet also extremely pleased. 

"Are you sure you just don't love me for my stuff?" He joked as they let go, referring to _Anne of Green Gables. _"I mean, sure I can pull off this little miracle, but..." 

"Of course I don't!" She laughed, hitting him on the shoulder. "I love _you._" Hermione glanced down at the book again. "But... thank you, so much, for this. I don't know how you ever found it, or how you even knew I wanted it, but I don't care. I'm glad you did. You've given me the world, Ronald Weasley." 

He blushed, just slightly, at her words. "You mind if I give you something else?" 

"What?" 

But Ron didn't answer with words; clutching Hermione's waist and drawing her nearer to him, he leaned in close, closer... and then their mouths met in a warm, tender kiss. They mingled for a several minutes, savoring in the emotion of the moment, it being something each other them had wanted for so long. 

Finally it ended, and Ron opened his eyes to see Hermione smiling lovingly at him. "Just as good as the book," she said, and giggled. 

_The book? _The thought of it had almost been washed away from his brain, as he was still reeling from the kiss. Then suddenly the sight of the bookstore flashed into his mind, back to when Hermione told him about her longtime search for the book, and he remembered something. 

Ron's hand dived into the pocket of his robes, where he found his wand. Pulling it out, he held it up and, concentrating deftly, quickly muttered a spell. "_Orchideous._" 

From the tip of his wand, a small nosegay of gardenias sprouted forth, and Ron snatched them off the wand. Handing them to her, he said, grinning furtively, "A book and flowers. Just as good as Valentine's, eh? Only you're the only girl I know that would rather have a book than a big sappy card. But, to be honest," he gave a good-natured shrug, "that's the only way I'd ever want you to be." 

Hermione beamed again and wrapped her arms around him fervently, in a bone-crushing hug, and then tilted her head up and gave Ron a great big kiss. 

"Sheesh, you two!" Ginny exclaimed several minutes later, managing to sound both exasperated and cheerful at the same time. "Get a room!" 

Hermione laughed through the kiss, breaking it prematurely. "Oh, clam up, you!" 

Over on the sofa next to Ginny, Harry too was grinning. "Well, bugger, it's taken them this long already, you might as well let them have at it." And then everyone laughed. 

Ron gave his future wife another small kiss, and then leaned back to look at her, an amused glint in his eye. "Just one more thing." 

"What?" Hermione simpered back. 

"You were right about the knotgrass." 

--- 

**Finis.**

--- 

Did you notice what I did in this last chapter, the sort-of symbolism? You might recall in chapter three that Harry told Ron that he (Ron) gave Hermione a book, a flower, and a card for Valentine's Day as the way to tell her how he really feels about her. But it wouldn't end up happening that way because by traveling to and coming back from the future, Ron changed the past - by telling Hermione how he felt as soon as he could. And how did those events unfold, here in the final chapter? Almost exactly like future-Harry said they had. Only with a different twist. I actually did that on purpose, to foreshadow the story's conclusion. Little genius, aren't I? ;-) 

In turn, you might also have noticed the subtlety of something else I did within the fic. In chapter seven, when Ron and Hermione are lying in bed and she's telling him about what happened when they first said "I love you" to each other, the memory of it might have struck you here in the final scene. Because, after all, in essence - the events that played out in this last chapter were almost exactly what Hermione was recalling in the future. And the reason I say "almost"? By Hermione giving Ron this information, his present time would be altered yet again. I noticed a few of you were confused that Harry's memory of Ron and Hermione finally confessing their love (in chapter three) was not at all Hermione's (chapter seven). Why did that change? Because the longer Ron remained in the future, he was simultaneously altering past events. Time is a fragile thing, huh? ;-) 

I guess it's no mystery, especially with the publication of this fic, that the whole time travel thing really fascinates me. Hell, I'm a major _Back to the Future_ junkie, what else did you expect? ;-) I'm happy I finally got to do a fic like this, because of my love for the fantasy/time-travel genre. ;-) So thanks muchly for your reviews and support! 

Which brings me to letting out a big gigantic "¡Muchas gracias!" to all of the people who have been reading and reviewing! To each and every one of YOU - thanks so much for your kind words, praise, and compliments! I'm glad you've stuck with the fic and have enjoyed it so much. 

Thank you tons for reading and for making this fic such a success. Please review! 


	11. Epilogue

ï»¿ **AN - **AND WAIT! "I thought ADIT was completed!" You may be saying to yourself. "What the shiznit is _this_? Am I hallucinating?" Well, perhaps you do, but I guarantee that this block of text here - a chapter eleven, of sorts - _is _really in front of you! And why? Because, when I wrapped up ADIT, and as satisfied as I was with the finished project, I felt as if something was missing from the story. Perhaps because... and I'm about to let you in on a little secret here... I originally had planned on ending the fic much differently than the way I did. (gasp!) No, seriously. What I initially had in mind was that, at the end of chapter ten, after Ron returns to his sixteen-year-old life and tells Hermione how he feels about her, he was going to wake up as his twenty-six year-old self and realize that the entire thing had been a dream. The only reason I didn't do it was because I was afraid it might've been too much of a stretch. Even though, I still felt like something needed to come after the end (sorry Arabella and Zsenya). Anyhoo, here it is!

---

**A Draught In Time:**

**Epilogue**

-dutchtulips-

---

_10 Years Later..._

---

Dusk. A beautiful May evening, its savory warm air and steadily rising tempatures signaling summer's soon arrival. A soft gust of wind suddenly erupted, twisting its way through High Street, ruffling the leaves on the trees and playing with the awnings hanging over the buildings. The usual Hogsmeade crowds were swelling, filling with shoppers, students, and other various witches and wizards, who'd perhaps come out for a night of drinks or dinner at the Three Broomsticks.

Blending in with the throng of people, issuing from said tavern's door after emerging from its fireplace grate, was twenty-six year-old Ron Weasley. He looked tired as he trekked up High Street, but nevertheless, there was a bright expression on his face as his eyes fell upon the store sign. The building itself was still half-a-block in the distance, but the bright green sign with the white handpainted flowers that hung over the door seemed to always be visible, even from miles away. It was a warm welcome everytime he saw it.

He'd been the one to hang it up, after all.

Ron picked up his pace, advancing towards _The Gardenia. _As he did so, the bundle he'd been carrying in his right arm bounced a little, and made a small noise of discomfort.

The redhead slowed his steps just slightly at the sound, and boosted the bundle higher up on his hip. "Whassamatter, Adam?" He said softly, playfully. "Getting fussy, aren't you. Don't fret... we're almost at Mummy's store."

The eight-month-old baby boy in Ron's arms looked up at his father with shiny blue eyes, and reached out to grab his nose with his tiny fist. Ron grinned. "Oh, come on, it's not _that _big, is it?"

Little Adam only giggled in reply.

_Such a pure, innocent sound that is, _Ron marveled, hoisting his son up against his side again, and quickened his pace in the direction of the bookstore. _As much of a hassle as it can be, lugging the kids around everywhere, it's really all worth it, just to see them laugh and have fun._

Finally the redhead reached the shop door, as he pulled it back to step inside, Ron was immediately met with a clatter of voices speaking - adults pleasantly amongst themselves, children animately carrying on. The aisles were scattered with shoppers young and old.

His eyes scanning the floor, Ron grinned as his eyes fell upon a little girl, whose vibrant red hair was drawn back into a pair of braids. _Like Heidi, _Ron thought momentarily, thinking of one of those Muggle storybooks that had been among Hermione's favorites.

The little girl was sitting on the floor in front of the pay counter, across from another small girl with ebony-colored hair that stuck out every which way. They were both finger-painting on large sheets of papyrus, sharing a well of rainbow-colored ink.

"Hey... is that my Caroline over there?"

The red-haired child glanced in the direction of the voice, and grinned widely as her eyes fell upon Ron. Jumping up quickly from her place on the floor, she ran over and hugged him round the waist.

"Daddy!" She squealed, and then drew back to look up at him. "Where was you? You been gone all day with Adam!" She exclaimed, her brown eyes accusing.

Ron smirked down at his four-year-old daughter. "Us Weasley boys snuck off to have fun alone today! You Weasley girls were suffocating us!"

"Nu uh!" Caroline - Carrie - chimed back. "Me and Mummy have been having a better time than you! There have been lotsa people here today! She let me help! And then Aunt Ginny brought Holly along to play when she came to help Mummy!"

Holly, the dark-haired little girl, suddenly bounced over at Carrie's side. "Mummy and Aunt Hermy let us play with paints!" She held up her fingers, which were stained about six different colors. "See?"

Ron laughed. "Yeah, I see, all right! Where have both your mums gotten to, anyway?"

Someone then, at precisely that moment, threw their arms around his shoulders, from behind. "In the aisle right behind you."

The redhead craned his neck, and smiled when his eyes fell upon his wife. "Hey, love," he grinned, and reached over and kissed her.

"Eww, mushy stuff!" Carrie teased, and she and Holly giggled.

Hermione, too, laughed, which broke she and Ron's kiss. "Some day you girls won't mind kissing a boy, you know," she smiled, putting her arms back around her husband's shoulders.

"Boys! Gross!" Carrie made a face, and she and Holly ran off together, still giggling to themselves.

Ron rolled his eyes amusedly, and glanced back at his wife. "That's _your _daughter."

"As I recall, I quite remember you being there, too." Hermione smirked, and then held her arms out for Adam. "Lemme see him..." She cooed, wiggling her fingers in anticipation.

Ron smiled and put their son into his wife's arms, and the three of them walked across the floor and over to the checkout desk. "I think he really had fun at Diagon Alley today. I took him into Florean Fortescue's, and the bloke brought over this big banana sundae for him. And it got everywhere, of course!"

Hermione crossed to the opposite side of the desk, and seated Adam on top of the counter. "Ohhh... I'll bet _that _was a nightmare!" She moaned, and then laughed. "Thanks for lightening my load with the kids today, love. Business was madhouse for most of the afternoon."

"Of course," he smiled. "Though I'm not sure it made much of an improvement, if Ginny's had Holly here all day, too." Pause. "Speaking of which, where is my little sister? I thought she was closing up with you later tonight."

Hermione smiled enigmatically. "Aw, she wanted to slip off early, so I told her no problem. We're going to be babysitting Holly overnight, by the way. Ginny has a surprise dinner planned for Harry tonight..."

Noticing the dreamy look in his wife's eyes, Ron glanced sideways at her. "What? What is it? Am I missing something?"

"Well..." Hermione plunked her elbows to the counter, and returned his gaze. "Ginny might hang me for telling you, but... she's pregnant again."

Ron's eyes brightened. "You're kidding! Really?"

"Really!" She replied, and then put an arm around her baby son. "Little Adam's going to have a playmate before too long!"

"Harry's going to be pleased," Ron said cheerfully. "You know how he's wanted to have a big family. Wish I could be there to see his face when Gin tells him tonight."

"Yeah," Hermione grinned. "Makes me think about November before last when I told you I was pregnant with Adam! I thought your eyes were going to pop out! Or with Caroline, you looked like you were going to have an attack!"

"Hey, come on! That's not true, I was thrilled you were pregnant! I was happy..." His voice had drifted off, along with his thoughts. All this talk about babies was bringing back a memory, one that never would forget...

_... Ron could only stare at her. His mouth kept opening, but no words would come out. _

_"I know we had a big discussion about it a few months ago, you know, about waiting... But some things you just can't plan, you know?" She went on, her voice shaky. "I really hope you're not upset, because I love you so much, and I... I've wanted to be pregnant for a long time now..." _

_Abruptly Ron leaned forward and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Hermione, just... forget what we talked about!" _Whatever it had been_, he thought. "I love you! If this is really what you wanted all along, you shouldn't have been afraid to tell me!" _

_"I know, but I just -" _

_"No," he interrupted, looking at her in the eyes. "You and me, Hermione, how long have we been friends? Since forever! As long as we've known each other! And truth be told, we've probably been in love with each other just as long." _

_She smiled knowingly. "Yeah..." _

_"So why should you be afraid to tell me anything important?" He continued. "Do you think I'll hate you, or reject you in some way? I could never do that, and I never will. We've been too close for ages for something like that to ever come between what we have..."_

"Ron! Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

He blinked, the sound of his full name breaking the fog from his mind. "What?" He blurted, his eyes finding Hermione as they swam back into focus.

"Off in your own little world again?" She smirked.

"Something like that," he replied. Ron paused for a long moment, gazing at his wife as she hefted Adam off of the counter and into her arms. "Hey... you know..." He started to say, quietly. "There's always been something that I... well, I've tried so many times before, but... there's something I've wanted to tell you."

Hermione looked up, curious. "Oh? What that?"

_That I was twenty-six once before. That I travelled through time when I was sixteen, to this year, ten years ago, and found out that you would be my wife, and that one day we would have children._

"That I... when we were in sixth year... at Hogwarts... when I gave you that _Anne of Green Gables _book..." Ron's thoughts were scattered as he searched for the words.

"The beginning of everything for us, just about." Hermione was smiling serenely. "Merlin, what an amazing day."

"It's the reason why we have Carrie and Adam." Ron quipped.

She glanced at him then, looking pleased. For a moment, she didn't say anything, until - shifting Adam onto one arm - she went for the top drawer in the checkout desk. Reaching in, Hermione quickly withdrew something and, closing the drawer with her hip, held it out to him.

It was the copy of _Anne of Green Gables, _the very one Ron had given her so long ago. Except now it was ten years older; its leather bindings creased from a decade of use, the raised gold lettering faded just a little bit.

Ron looked up at her, half in charm, half in confusion, before she said gently, "Open it. There's something I put inside. I did it almost just to be silly, but then, when you said what you just said..."

He lifted the front cover and stared down at the top leaf, the first page on the inside of the book. And there, Hermione's delicate pen had written the words:

**Caroline Grace Weasley**

**12 March 2011, 3.47 AM**

**--**

**Adam Ronald Weasley**

**8 August 2014, 10.04 PM**

When Ron finally managed to look back up at his wife, it took him a long moment to recover. When he finally did, all he could do was smile. "You know," he said, "When I gave you this book ten years ago, I'll never forget the look on your face. You told me that I gave you the world. But right now, you know what you just did?"

Hermione beamed at him. "What's that?"

"You just proved that _you've _given _me _the world. Marrying me, being the mother of our children... everything."

Without a word - and still holding Adam on her hip - Hermione leaned right across the counter and gave her husband a great big kiss.

"That's one of the most beautiful compliments of my life," she said, her eyes sparkling, when the kiss ended. "Is that what you'd always been wanting to say?"

Momentarily Ron's mind flashed to the ten-year-old memory; the potion, travelling through time, discovering that they would be married in the future, getting back to his sixteen-year-old self and telling her how he felt, giving her the book - the whole story he'd just moments before had been geared up to tell her.

But suddenly it all seemed to dissipate. He was here now, he knew, because he was there _then._ And now was the only place he ever wanted to be.

"Yeah, exactly."

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**el fin **(the real one, this time.)


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